Arkham Through the Ages, Part I
by Christine M. Greenleaf
Summary: Similar to my "Gotham Through the Ages" series, these stories take Batman and his rogues gallery and place them in different time periods. Only this time, they're not confined to Gotham. Part I is a tale of the Old West, and a dump of a frontier town called Arkham, where only the most vile and depraved criminals dare settle...
1. Chapter 1

**Arkham Through the Ages, Part I**

 **Western Territory of the United States – 1885**

"Harleen? Did you hear what Mr. Wayne was saying?"

Harleen Quinzel turned her attention away from the window of the jolting stagecoach, and the barren, desolate landscape outside it, which she had been staring at with ever-increasing dread. "Um…no," she stammered. "I'm afraid I wasn't paying attention."

"I was saying that one day, all this will be civilized," said Bruce Wayne, gesturing out at the surrounding, harsh desert. "And it will all be thanks to brave men and women like yourself and your family, Miss Quinzel, who are willing to go out into the wild, savage wilderness and tame it. Bring it some measure of civilization. That's the only way we as a society will ever progress."

"Can mere humans ever tame nature's wilderness?" asked Harleen, dryly. "I think it's much more likely that we'll just have to live in harmony with the wild, and accept the chaos of nature as it is, rather than trying to control it."

"Well, forgive me for having more faith in humanity than you!" laughed Bruce. "But I believe it is mankind's destiny to dominate the world, and everything in it. And it is America's manifest destiny to expand all across this great continent, from the Atlantic to the Pacific Ocean, and maybe beyond. It's why I'm heading to California, anyway – I want to be able to say I've seen the Pacific Ocean with my own two eyes, and seen Americans settle on its edges."

"That's funny, I thought you were heading to California to take up your job as a deputy sheriff," replied Harleen.

"Well, that's why I applied for the job," replied Bruce, shrugging. "Could have stayed on the East Coast – I come from a wealthy family and could have lived a life of luxury. But that kind of idleness just isn't for me – I want to make a difference in the world and in society. And being responsible for the law in these as yet lawless territories is just the thing. Being able to tame these uncivilized people and make them respect the rule of law, I think that's a fine ambition."

"I think so too, Mr. Wayne," agreed Harleen's father, nodding. "It's good for a man to have ambition."

"It's not good for a woman," retorted Harleen. "Unless that ambition is to be married."

"Harleen, please, not this again," sighed her mother. "You don't want to bore Mr. Wayne when we have such a long way to go on our journey."

"Surely finding a husband can't be a problem for you, Miss Quinzel?" asked Bruce. "You're a very attractive, charming young lady."

"The very idea of finding a husband is a problem for me, Mr. Wayne," snapped Harleen. "The idea that I'm only worth anything when attached to someone else, that my own value as a person is based on whether or not I am the servant of another person. Mr. Lincoln may have abolished slavery, but women are still forced into servitude by your supposedly civilized society. So forgive me for not thinking very highly of it."

"My daughter can be quite outspoken – you must forgive her, Mr. Wayne," said Mrs. Quinzel, hastily. "Her father and I have tried to discourage her from speaking her mind, to little effect."

"There's nothing to forgive," said Bruce. "I admire anyone who has the courage to speak out against injustice, wherever it may be found. It takes bravery, especially when people keep shouting you down."

"How nice of you to find an ally in Mr. Wayne, Harleen," said her father, with an encouraging smile. "You are truly a gentleman of the highest order, sir."

"Oh, please, none of that," said Bruce, waving his hand. "I won't be treated any differently from you in the new territory, Mr. Quinzel. We are all equals out here."

"I hardly think a deputy sheriff is equal to a merchant," said Mr. Quinzel. "Even in the new territories."

"A very successful merchant," pointed out Bruce.

"Well, yes," agreed Mr. Quinzel, shrugging. "But there's money, and then there's family background. And there's nobody in our part of the country who hasn't heard of the Waynes. My family immigrated here a generation ago, but you're from one of the richest, most established families in America."

"Well, that hardly makes me better than anyone else," said Bruce. "And out here, in terms of opportunity, I believe we should all be equal. That's the American dream, and I hope we're going to get to live it in the new territory."

Harleen said nothing, returning her attention to the dead landscape outside the window, and trying to ignore her feelings of anger and disappointment which burned through every fiber of her being. She hadn't much cared for her life back on the East Coast, but anything was better than being dragged all the way across the country to some tiny dump of a town in the California territory, where life would be anything but easy. Her father's ambition was similar to Bruce's – to help the struggling settlements prosper by injecting them with much needed wealth and business, to establish a real, flourishing society and turn them into the economic hubs of tomorrow. And Harleen supposed this was an adventure, of a kind, but it hadn't been at all pleasant so far.

She and her family had packed up all their possessions, and been trapped on this stagecoach for weeks on end. The natural beauty and greenery of the East Coast and the majestic mountains of the Midwest had finally faded away to this barren, rocky, desert wasteland. And from what Harleen had heard of California, her new home wouldn't be much different from this. It was like looking out on a world of dead things, and she couldn't imagine having any sort of life out here, where nothing grew and little survived.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden bang, and the rearing of the horses. "What on earth is that?" asked Mr. Quinzel, glancing out the window. Harleen leaned her head out to try and peer around the front of the stagecoach, but the desert twilight was closing in, and seeing much more than a few feet in front of her was impossible, even though the lamps on the side of the coach had been lit. She had never experienced nights as dark as this before in her life.

The stagecoach rattled as they felt the driver dismount, and then heard booted, spurred footsteps coming round to the door. It was opened suddenly, and they were all four shocked to be staring down the barrel of a gun wielded by a man in a mask.

"Surprise! This is a stick-up!" chuckled the man, who was wearing a purple handkerchief over his mouth and nose, leaving only his bright, green eyes visible beneath a wide, purple cowboy hat. "Everybody outta the coach now!"

They all obeyed slowly, stunned and not fully processing what was happening. Harleen looked around to see that the coach had been surrounded by what appeared to be a gang of men on horseback. The man in purple was obviously their leader – he was shouting up orders to the men on the roof of the stagecoach who were going through the Quinzel's and Bruce's possessions.

"Careful, Roc!" shouted the man in purple. "Don't drop anything that might be valuable!"

"Boss, jackpot!" exclaimed one of the men, throwing open a chest to reveal a huge pile of banknotes.

"Two jackpots," said another, opening up a satchel with the same.

"Oooh, we got wealthy company in our midst!" chuckled the man in purple, turning back to the passengers. "My favorite kind! Hope you don't mind if I help myself!"

"You can't take that!" gasped Mr. Quinzel. "That's all we have, all I've saved…"

The man in purple pointed the gun at him, silencing him. "Can't is such a negative word, pal," he murmured. "And I can't stand negativity. So I wouldn't use that word if I were you."

"Gee, boss, but you just used the word can't," pointed out one of the gang members. "To say you can't stand negativity…"

The man in purple whirled around, and suddenly fired the gun into the gang member's head. He slumped off his horse as both Harleen and her mother screamed, horrified by the violence.

"Also can't stand people correcting me," muttered the man in purple, turning the gun back on the passengers. "Shows a lack of respect. Now, I'd like you all to hand over any valuables you might have on your person, please. Jewels, money, gold, that kinda thing. You'll wanna give them up voluntarily, or I'll make my boys search you, and trust me, you don't wanna be subjected to that."

"You won't get away with this, you criminal scum!" hissed Bruce Wayne, his blue eyes blazing fury.

The man in purple walked over to him, the spurs on his boots clinking. "Oh, I think I just might!" he chuckled. "Gotten away with it a lotta times before, sport!"

"You won't from now on," growled Bruce, glaring at him. "I promise you. I will hunt you down and see you hanged for this, even if you are some coward in a mask."

The man in purple reached a gloved hand up and pulled down the handkerchief, and Harleen was shocked to see that his skin was bone white, contrasting sharply with bright, grinning red lips, and a huge, glittering smile.

"Let me give you a good look so you won't forget my face," he murmured. "I don't wear the mask to conceal my identity, just to keep the dust outta my face when I ride!" he chuckled. "I have a pretty distinctive appearance, and I'm fairly proud of my notoriety, really. Maybe you've heard of me. The Joker?"

"No," retorted Bruce. "But I won't forget you. You can bet your life on that, however much remains of it."

The Joker chuckled. "Got ourselves a hero here!" he laughed. "You won't last long in these parts, pally. This ain't no place for a hero."

His attention turned to Harleen, and he suddenly ripped her necklace off her throat. "I said hand over the jewels, sweetheart!" he snapped.

"How dare you?!" shrieked Harleen, her indignation at being touched overcoming her fear of this man. Before she knew what she was doing, she slapped him hard across the face.

For a moment afterward, the tension in the air was palpable, as the other gang members immediately silenced, staring at her in shock. The Joker slowly turned his face back around to her, and there were sparks of anger shooting from his green eyes.

He snapped his fingers. "Roc!" he shouted to one of his gang.

"Yes, boss?" asked the man, hurrying over.

"Tie her up," he said, nodding at Harleen. "We're taking her with us."

"What?" gasped Harleen, horrified.

"No!" cried her parents, just as Bruce started forward to attack the Joker. They were all kept at bay by guns being pointed at them by the surrounding henchmen.

"You can all leave here alive or not – up to you," said Joker, turning away from them and heading back to his horse. "The rest of you, search them."

Harleen was seized by the gang member. She tried to struggle, but he was much bigger and stronger than her, and lifted her over his shoulder as if she weighed no more than a sack of potatoes. She felt her legs being bound, and was then thrown over the back of a horse. The Joker came around to tie her hands and arms together.

"What are you going to do to me?" she demanded, trying to sound threatening.

He smiled at her. "Dunno. But probably nothing you'll find very fun, toots. Maybe I'll sell you at Arkham. Pretty, feisty little thing like you should fetch a fine price."

"You'll pay for this…" she began.

"Roc, gag her too!" interrupted the Joker, patting her cheek and then heading back to his horse. The henchman obeyed, sticking a dirty rag into Harleen's mouth that made her choke. Tears came to her eyes as twisted against the ropes, and gazed back at her parents and Bruce in helplessness. They were being searched by the henchmen, but Bruce's eyes were fixed on her in determination.

 _Maybe he's going to rescue me_ she thought. _Maybe he'll be able to do that before I come to any harm…_ she didn't want to imagine how much harm she could come to at the hands of these men.

The Joker suddenly gave the order to move out, and the horse she was tied to lurched forward. "Harleen!" shrieked her mother, watching her disappear into the night. "Harleen, no! No!"

She burst into tears, and Mr. Quinzel held her, trying to soothe her. "Don't you worry, Mrs. Quinzel," murmured Bruce Wayne, keeping his eyes fixed on Harleen until she disappeared from sight. "I'm going to get her back."


	2. Chapter 2

Harleen spent a very uncomfortable night being jolted around the back of the horse. As dawn broke over the desert, in a fiery ball of sunlight which spread mercilessly over the barren wasteland, Harleen thought she saw a cluster of buildings in the distance, like a settlement of some kind. But it was hard to see anything through the choking dust that the horses kicked up from the desert sand.

Before they reached the settlement, the Joker ordered them to halt for a rest. Harleen was dragged down from the horse and thrown to the ground by the henchman, and the Joker approached her, removing the gag and holding out his canteen.

"Here," he said. "Have a drink."

Harleen didn't have the strength to refuse him – she was desperately thirsty. She gulped down the water until Joker removed the canteen from her lips, taking a sip for himself and then screwing the top back on.

"Need to do something with your face," he muttered. "And hair. You look like crap."

"Perhaps that's because I've spent the night being tossed around on the back of a horse!" snapped Harleen.

"Uh huh," he said, studying her. He then opened the canteen again and suddenly dumped the remaining water onto her face and head. Harleen sputtered in shock, and then felt him wiping her face with his handkerchief.

"Don't touch me – how dare you?!" she shrieked, batting his hand away.

He seized her chin in his hand. "I'll do a lot worse than touch you if you don't stay still!" he hissed. "If I'm gonna get a good price for you, I need you looking your best."

"Are you going to let people inspect me like cattle too?" demanded Harleen. "Or check my teeth like horses?"

In response, Joker suddenly pulled down on her jaw, forcing her mouth apart. He studied her teeth and then nodded, releasing her. "Looks fine to me. Be sure to smile when we get into town – that'll increase your appeal."

"And if I don't?" demanded Harleen.

"You'll find out," he retorted, standing up and heading back to his horse.

Harleen was hoisted back onto her horse a moment later, and the ride resumed. They reached the settlement, in front of which was a hand-painted sign that read: _Arkham – Enter at your own risk!_

Joker ordered the gang to a halt on the town's main street, which appeared deserted. He dismounted, and then pulled Harleen off the horse, untying her legs. She instantly tried to run, but he caught her arm. "No point, sweetheart," he murmured, dragging her back. "There's no place to go. Nothing but desert for miles around. You'd be dead before you reached civilization."

"Death would be better than slavery," she snapped.

"Depends on who's buying you, I guess!" chuckled Joker. "Now follow me," he said, tugging her behind him by her bound hands as the gang unloaded all the valuables they had collected.

"Roll up, roll up, everyone!" shouted Joker out into the empty street. "We're gonna have ourselves an auction! In the square, ten minutes, be there or be square!" he chuckled. "Boys, bring the trinkets," he said, gesturing to a nearby shop.

He dragged Harleen into the shop behind him, and her eyes were immediately assaulted by row upon row of what was, quite frankly, junk. Discarded plough parts, pieces of broken wagon wheels and scraps of canvas, among almost innumerable, unrecognizable objects, bent and twisted out of shape.

"Jervis!" called Joker. "Got some more crap for you!"

"My items are not crap!" snapped a man emerging from behind a curtain. He was small, immaculately dressed in a top hat, and spoke with a strange, unfamiliar accent, and his scowl deepened when he saw Harley.

"And I don't deal in flesh," he snapped. "What sort of person do you take me for?"

"One who collects useless junk," retorted Joker. "But don't worry – she ain't for you. A pretty dame ain't ever useless junk, huh?" he chuckled, pinching Harleen's cheek. She snapped at his hand. "Feisty little thing, ain't she?" Joker chuckled. "I'm selling her in the square in ten minutes, not that you'll be interested in that. Hear you don't swing that way."

"And what way would that be, inflicting myself upon helpless women?" demanded the small man. "You're right, I don't swing that way. We abolished slavery in my country some time ago, even though I know this country only caught up with the rest of civilization twenty years ago."

"Oh yeah, well, if things are so bad here, why don't you go back to your own country?" demanded Joker. "Nobody here would miss you, you limey jerk! Maybe your boyfriend Dr. Crane, but that's about it!"

"Do you actually have anything to give me besides insults?" sighed the small man.

"Yeah, a buncha stuff," said Joker, gesturing the henchmen forward. They placed objects onto the counter. The small man pulled out a magnifying glass and studied them carefully, as if they were valuable gemstones rather than just random parts.

"I'll give you five dollars for them," he said at last.

"Five?!" repeated Joker, indignantly. "That's good junk! Worth at least ten!"

"I am not in need of these particular items for my work at present," explained the small man. "I think five is more than generous on my part."

"Aw, c'mon!" exclaimed Joker. "Whatever crap machines and gadgets you invent back there, you can always use…broken spurs and…chains, and…crowbars!"

"Five dollars, Joker," repeated the small man, firmly.

Joker growled. "Fine," he muttered. "But she'd better fetch a lot more than that," he said, nodding at Harleen.

He grabbed the money, and an item off the counter. "And I'm keeping the crowbar," he said, striding from the shop.

They emerged to see that a sizable crowd had gathered in the square – there was a raised platform which Joker dragged Harleen over to, climbing up next to her. "All right, ladies and gents, we got ourselves a real rare piece here, a feisty yankee dame, fresh from eastern parts! She's got beauty and spirit, as you can see. Useful for any number of things. If you wanna kill her to collect her body parts, I leave that to your discretion, Dr. Crane! Or if you wanna have her join your sisters of the night at the saloon, that's up to you, Miss Ivy," he said, nodding at people in the crowd. "So what are my bids?"

There was a murmuring among the crowd, but nobody spoke up. "Smile, toots," growled Joker at Harleen.

"I won't!" she snapped. "And you can't make…"

She yelped in pain as the crowbar fell across her back. "Smile," he repeated.

She obeyed, tears in her eyes at the pain in her back, and at this humiliation, as she looked around at the strange and terrifying faces that studied her.

"I'll give you twenty, J," said an attractive red-haired woman.

"Twenty from Miss Ivy," said Joker, looking around. "Any other bids?"

"Twenty-five," said a tall, thin, well-dressed man.

"Twenty-five from Dr. Crane," said Joker. "Anyone else?"

"Thirty," growled a voice. Harleen was horrified to see that it came from a man with half a face.

"Harvey!" snapped Miss Ivy, rounding on him angrily.

"To work in the forge, not for anything funny!" he snapped at her. "You need to be less paranoid, Pammie!"

"Thirty-five," said a huge, hulking man who stood well over the rest of the crowd. He appeared to have something wrong with his skin.

"Thirty-five from Croc," said the Joker, nodding. "She'll make a good meal, I guess…"

"Forty," spoke up Crane again.

"Oooh, the good doctor is very interested!" chuckled Joker. "Anyone going for more than forty?"

"A hundred," said Ivy, causing a gasp from the crowd.

"A hundred I'm bid!" said Joker, beaming. "Anyone wanna top Miss Ivy's generous offer?"

"A hundred and fifty!" snapped Crane, glaring at Ivy. She glared back.

"You can't possibly profit from her the way I can!" snapped Ivy. "It's not a smart economic decision, Crane! Just back down!"

"A hundred and fifty," repeated Crane.

"Miss Ivy, care to go any higher?" asked Joker.

"I can't afford to on my own," she retorted. "But hang on a second…Oswald!" she called through the swinging doors of a neighboring building which read _Saloon._

"What?" snapped a voice.

"J's brought back a girl, very pretty, could mean a lot more business for my upstairs brothel, and your downstairs saloon!" called Ivy. "The more men who come in for her, the more they'll drink! But I need you to go halves with me! We can split her profits!"

The doors swung open, and another small, well-dressed man wearing a monocle and smoking a cigar appeared. He glanced at Harleen, and then shrugged. "Ok," he said, turning back inside.

"Two hundred," said Ivy, triumphantly. An impressed murmuring went through the crowd.

"Two hundred," repeated Joker, his eyes gleaming. "Anyone care to top that?"

Everyone was silent, Crane glaring hatred at Ivy. "Two hundred once, two hundred twice, sold to Miss Ivy for two hundred dollars!" exclaimed Joker. "Which means I'm sure you can still enjoy her later, Dr. Crane, for a price, of course, when you stop by Miss Ivy's and Mr. Cobblepot's establishment! Speaking of which, let's all go get a drink!"

A cheer rose up from the crowd as they made their way into the saloon. "Here's your hundred, J – get the rest from Oswald at the bar," said Ivy, handing him some bills.

"Pleasure doing business with you, toots!" chuckled Joker, handing Harleen's ropes to Ivy. Harleen stared aghast at them, not able to process what was happening to her, which she felt was a relief in some small way.

"C'mon," said Ivy, tugging on her ropes and dragging her toward the saloon. "This way. I'll show you to your new room."

"See you around, sweetheart!" said Joker, winking at Harleen as she was dragged off, his mocking laughter ringing after her.


	3. Chapter 3

The saloon was a huge, noisy place which smelled of alcohol, cigar smoke, and unwashed bodies. Strains of piano music could just barely be heard over the loud talking and shouting of its patrons, some engaged in card games and some solely in their drinks. Harleen was dragged through the crowd toward some stairs at the back of the room. Ivy pulled her up these, and gently pushed her through one of the many doors that lined the upstairs level.

"Selina!" she called. "We've got a new girl!"

"Oh God, what poor soul has been dragged here this time?" sighed an attractive dark-haired woman, emerging from behind a dressing screen.

"I don't know – J was selling her in the square," said Ivy. "Don't know who she is or where she's come from. You, girl, who are you and where do you come from?" she asked.

"I…I…I won't be a…prostitute!" stammered Harleen.

"I didn't ask you that, did I?" retorted Ivy. "I asked you who you are and where you come from."

"I'm…Harleen Quinzel," stammered Harleen. "I come from…New York. We…my parents and me...were moving to California, but the Joker…he…attacked my stagecoach."

"Sounds like J," sighed Selina. "Always causing trouble of one kind or another. Well, don't worry. You're safe now."

"Safe?" repeated Harleen. "But you've just…bought me to be a prostitute."

"Don't be ridiculous," snapped Ivy. "As if I would ever force any woman to become a prostitute! I bought you to save you from whatever kind of slavery some man had in mind for you! It's not that I don't like Dr. Crane, he's just a very creepy person, and I don't trust his, or any man's, intentions toward a helpless young woman in his power."

"I…don't understand," said Harleen, confused.

Ivy sighed. "Selina and me do run a brothel," she said. "But all our employees work here of their own volition. We wouldn't dream of forcing fellow women to do anything they didn't want to – we have to band together in these difficult times and places, and this way, we can all look out for each other. And frankly, prostitution is one of the few ways to have power over men. You control their pleasure, and you control their minds."

"Then you don't…you won't…force me to…do…anything," stammered Harleen.

"No, not if you don't want to," said Ivy. "We provide a good service here, so no questions get asked as long as we keep the customers coming in. And believe me, that's not hard to do in a town like this where we're literally the only women around. There's no supply and demand problem for our particular commodity."

"But…what if someone asks for me specifically?" asked Harleen.

"We'll make excuses," said Ivy. "Believe me, this isn't the first time we've done this. You'd be surprised how many of our local thugs think bringing back a captive girl is a great idea. The whole town forgets about her soon enough."

"You'll have a room here," said Selina. "And you can stay here for as long as you want. You'll be safe."

"But…I can't leave?" asked Harleen, slowly.

Ivy and Selina shared a look. "Where would you go?" Ivy asked. "There is nowhere to go."

"Yes, and if you head back out onto the streets of Arkham, you'll be fair game to any piece of lowlife scum out there," said Selina. "And believe me, there are a lot of them. Much safer to stay in here, where you'll be looked after."

"But…I need to get back to my family," said Harleen. "My parents will be so worried…"

"Look, Harleen, is it?" asked Ivy. "I don't mean to be rude, but really you're lucky to be alive, and unharmed. This is a dangerous place full of dangerous people. You should count your blessings that you've ended up safely in here, and not focus on impossible things, like getting back to your parents. You're kinda stuck here now, whether you like it or not, so you should try to make the best of it."

Harleen stared at her. "You expect me to just…stay in this room for the rest of my life?"

"If you want to be safe, yes," agreed Ivy. "You're welcome to wander around Arkham if you want to take your life into your own hands. But even if you go out there, there's no way to leave town without a horse or someone to drive you."

Harleen sat down slowly, trying to think. "Is there…any hope of being rescued here?" she stammered. "There was a man on the stagecoach who was going to be a deputy…"

"There's no law in this town," said Selina. "And the law has no power here."

Harleen nodded. A lesser woman might have given in to despair at this point, but Harleen was not a lesser woman. If there was no hope of rescue from the outside world, she would have to find some way of rescuing herself. And if Ivy and Selina wouldn't help, she would have to find someone else who would.

"What can you tell me about the people here?" she asked.

"Oh, they're mostly freaks and monsters," replied Ivy. "Come here – I'll show you."

She led Harley out of the room to the balcony overlooking the main room of the saloon. "That's Oswald Cobblepot," she said, pointing behind the bar. "He owns half of this property, along with me. Folks call him the Penguin because of the way he looks."

"And that's?" asked Harleen, pointing at the man who had almost bought her, seated next to the small man from the junk shop.

"Dr. Jonathan Crane," said Ivy. "The town surgeon. Kinda creepy, like I said. Collects body parts – not sure what for. He's very keen on amputation for any kind of wound, so I don't recommend going to him if you're sick."

"O…K," said Harleen, slowly. "And him?" she asked, pointing to the small man.

"Jervis Tetch. He's from England," said Ivy. "Keeps himself to himself mostly, but he and Dr. Crane are close. He's a bit of an eccentric too – he collects junk to build machines and strange inventions. Nobody knows what use half the stuff he builds is though."

"And who's that?" asked Harleen, pointing to the man with half a face. "He's hideous."

"He's my fiance," retorted Ivy.

"Oh…I'm sorry, I…" stammered Harleen.

"It's fine. Just try not to stare – he hates that," she said. "His name's Harvey Dent, and he's our town blacksmith. Had an accident in the forge a few years back that made his face like that. Used to be the most handsome guy in this whole town by a mile. But I still love him, even if he can be a little short-tempered these days," sighed Ivy.

"And that's the Joker," said Harleen, her eyes narrowing as they fixed on the man seated at the bar, laughing hysterically.

"Yep. You probably know about as much as you want to about him," said Ivy. "He's a notorious outlaw – runs his own gang which mostly robs stages and trains around these parts."

"What happened to his face?" asked Harleen.

"Nobody knows," said Ivy. "People don't ask too many questions around here, or they tend to get shot."

At that moment, an argument erupted over at the card table, and before anyone realized what was happening, shots were fired, and one of the men at the table fell down dead.

"Croc, you killed Nygma!" exclaimed Oswald Cobblepot.

"He was cheating at cards!" growled Croc.

Cobblepot sighed. "Just as long as you clean it up," he muttered. "I'm not getting rid of another body – I've already had three to take care of this week."

The talking and laughter quickly resumed as if a man hadn't just been killed. "In fact, people tend to get shot for a lotta reasons," said Ivy, nodding down at the scene. "So watch your step if you leave your room, like I said. Arkham's no place for the faint of heart. But it's home, so…y'know," she said, returning to her room.

Harleen didn't know. But she stared down at the crowd of outlaws and misfits below her, wondering which of them she could trust to help her get out of here. Which she would only do after she took revenge on the Joker for kidnapping her, she vowed, glaring at his grinning face. She would make him regret his actions, if it was the last thing she ever did.


	4. Chapter 4

The first thing Ivy suggested Harleen do was get a bath and wash the dust of the road off her, which Harleen gratefully accepted. Ivy led her to a large room at the end of the corridor which faced out onto the desert through a large window that filled the room with sunlight. Inside was a large tub, and plants of all varieties, everything from tropical flowers to blooming cactus, stuffed in every corner.

"Are all these yours?" asked Harleen, astonished at the greenery and color – she hadn't seen those things in a while.

"Yep," said Ivy, drawing the curtain shut. "I love plants, and have kinda a green thumb. It's hard to keep some of them alive out here, but it's worth it. And there are some, like the cactus here, that relish the challenge," she said, nodding at the huge, yellow flowers that sprouted from the plant. "It's beauty that thrives in harsh conditions. I can relate to that," she said, smiling at Harleen. Harleen smiled back.

"Now, I'll go get you some hot water from the kitchen downstairs, unless you need help undressing," Ivy said, heading for the door. "I know corsets can be difficult to get out of sometimes. I usually insist my gentlemen callers help me with mine."

"No, I'm…used to helping myself," said Harleen.

"Ok. I'll be right back," she said, shutting the door behind her. Harleen began to strip off her clothes, and then settled into the large tub, waiting for Ivy's return.

She came back with two buckets of steaming water, which she poured gently over Harleen. It felt so good after weeks on the road. Ivy began soaping up her hair and back. "You got a mark where J hit you with the crowbar," she sighed, rubbing it gently. "Should heal all right, but it might be a tender area for a little while. I'd try to sleep on my stomach if I were you."

"Beast," muttered Harleen, her anger returning.

"Yeah, he ain't a nice guy," agreed Ivy. "Treats most people like objects. If he ever came here as a customer, I'd refuse to let him have one of my girls – wouldn't trust him not to just hurt them for fun."

"He hasn't ever come here as a customer?" asked Harleen, finding that hard to believe.

"Nope, never showed any interest in women in that way," replied Ivy. "Not so unusual for some of the freaks here, actually. But you get the feeling that J's too obsessed with pain and violence to ever have more human, natural urges."

She poured more water over Harleen's hair, rinsing it. "You got a fella back home?" she asked.

"No," replied Harleen. "I've never been that interested in pursuing men. I've always resented the idea that I have to chase after them, and that I need one in order to be married and secure. I have no interest in chasing after anyone. It's pathetic."

She blushed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to insult your…profession…"

"I don't chase after men, don't worry!" laughed Ivy. "No need to here! I may be the one selling, but the buyers do all the chasing and wooing! Men are so desperate for women here that we have a huge amount of control over our customers – we get to pick and choose who we serve. And a person with power has a lotta respect, even if I probably would be looked down upon elsewhere. Out here, with no society and no rules, the person who can control men has power and respect. And me and my girls do that. Men know not to trifle with us."

"Could you teach me?" asked Harleen. "I mean, not…how to be a prostitute, but…how I can walk the streets of this place being…respected?"

Ivy looked at her. "Well, you'll have to teach 'em you're no-nonsense, for starters," she said. "You need to learn how to defend yourself against any kinda attack, and to make sure that whoever attacks you will spread around that you ain't to be messed with. You know how to shoot?"

"No," said Harleen.

"You'll need to learn how to shoot," said Ivy. "I can teach you later, I guess. And you'll need to learn basic hand-to-hand self-defense, for those times when you can't reach your pistol."

"Could you teach me that?" asked Harleen.

"Sure," said Ivy, shrugging. "I can teach you one lesson right now. If worst comes to worst, kiss a guy so he's off guard, and then knee him hard in the groin. By the time he recovers from that, you'll have had time to make your escape. You know what men have got between their legs, right?"

"Um…not exactly," said Harleen, feeling herself blushing.

Ivy smiled. "They got their most vulnerable, painful spot, completely unguarded. So when in doubt, aim for that."

She stood up. "Let me get you a fresh towel. You just relax and soak."

Harleen obeyed, more grateful than words could express for the bath, and for Ivy's kindness to her. She hated to think what could have happened to her alone with all of these horrible men, and with nobody to look out for her.

"Your room's straight down at the end of the hall – go there and make yourself comfortable," said Ivy, re-entering with the towel. "My room's in the middle – knock on my door when you want something to eat, or anything else, really. Just make sure you wait until you hear me say 'come in' – wouldn't want you interrupting me and a customer. It's bad for business."

"Thank you, Miss Ivy," said Harleen, sincerely. "For everything."

"My pleasure, honey," said Ivy. She patted her cheek. "Now don't you worry anymore. Everything's going to be all right – I promise."

Harleen almost believed her as she wrapped the towel around her body and left the room. She turned to shut the door and then turned back around, and shrieked in shock when she saw a man standing in front of her, a man she recognized as Dr. Crane.

He was as stunned as she was to see him, and just stared at her, his mouth agape. Harleen's instinctive reaction was once again to slap him hard across the face, and demand, "How dare you?!" ignoring how much trouble that had got her into before.

"I'm terribly sorry, I didn't know you…weren't…dressed," stammered Crane.

"Crane, what the hell are you doing here?!" roared Ivy, emerging from the bathroom at the scream. "Men aren't allowed in this part of my establishment, you know that!"

"I didn't!" protested Crane. "I never come to your establishment! And Miss Kyle said you were down here…"

"Harleen, go to your room," said Ivy, ushering her away. "What do you want, Crane?" she asked.

Harleen hurried past them, but lingered at the door to her room to hear what they were saying. "…Miss Quinzel's not for sale yet," snapped Ivy. "And frankly, I don't know if she ever will be."

"You misunderstand me. I don't want to _buy_ her, I just want to see her, and talk to her."

"Why?" demanded Ivy. "And why were you so keen on buying her earlier?"

"I just think…she's a very attractive young lady…and…my intentions are entirely honorable, I assure you…"

"What intentions?" demanded Ivy.

"I would like to…ask her if she'd allow me…the very great honor of…courting her," stammered Crane.

"Courting her?" repeated Ivy, incredulous. "You?"

"Yes, me!" snapped Crane. "Do you find that so unbelievable?!"

"Yes," said Ivy. "I didn't know you were interested in a wife. Or women in general, really."

"Just because I don't engage with your establishment doesn't mean I would like to eschew all female companionship," retorted Crane. "Anyway, I'm sure she could do worse for a husband here, assuming she's going to remain here, which she really has no choice about."

"She told me she wasn't that interested in finding a husband," said Ivy. "But you're welcome to pay your respects to her, by all means. Just not on my property. This is a man-free zone, unless you're paying for the privilege. Otherwise my girls are not to be bothered. Now get back downstairs, and don't you ever come to this part of my place again."

"Very well," retorted Crane. "I need to talk to Croc anyway. See if I can persuade him not to eat Nygma's body until I've collected a few bits and pieces."

"Gosh, Harleen's a lucky girl," said Ivy, sarcastically.

Crane glared at her and stormed off. Harleen watched him go, the gears in her brain turning. She had no intention of marrying Dr. Crane, but if he was interested in getting into her good graces, she wondered if a devoted suitor couldn't be useful in some way, like helping her get out of here. She would have to pay him a visit, after Ivy taught her to defend herself, of course. Harleen had no intention of facing any man in this town without a gun in her hand anymore. Especially one.


	5. Chapter 5

The stagecoach containing Harleen's parents and Bruce Wayne arrived at their destination in California at last, a small town called New Gotham. They all instantly hurried to the sheriff's office, where Bruce was scheduled to begin his new post as deputy.

"Sheriff Gordon?" Bruce asked, opening the door to office, which contained a single desk and only two cells in the back. The man on duty stood up.

"Yes, that's me," he said, extending his hand. "And you are?"

"Bruce Wayne, your new deputy," said Bruce.

"Ah, delighted to meet you, Bruce…" began Gordon, but Bruce waved his hand.

"Look, there's no time for pleasantries – something terrible happened on our way here, and we need the law to help!"

"My daughter's been kidnapped!" exclaimed Mr. Quinzel. "By a band of ruthless bandits!"

"Well, we'll do what we can to get her back, of course," said Gordon, heading over to his desk. "Where was this kidnapping?"

"Several days journey from here," said Bruce. "Must have been around the edge of the Arizona territory, by my reckoning."

"Well, that's honestly out of my jurisdiction," said Gordon. "Any clues as to who the kidnappers were?"

"Yes," retorted Bruce. "I saw his face and I'll never forget it. The Joker."

Gordon stared at him. "The Joker?" he repeated. "This Joker?" he asked, pointing to a wanted poster on the wall, with a sketched picture of the Joker's face, and a reward offering ten-thousand dollars for his capture, dead or alive.

"That's him," said Bruce, nodding.

Gordon shook his head slowly. "Then I'm terribly sorry, Bruce, but that girl's as good as gone. You should resign yourself to that fact, and spare yourself the pain of hoping to rescue her. Nobody crosses the Joker and lives. He's the most dangerous outlaw on the frontier. Going up against him is, quite frankly, suicide."

"But we can't just give up and let his reign of terror continue!" protested Bruce. "Our job is to uphold the law in these lawless places! We have to gather any strong, able-bodied men you have and find out where he's hiding…"

"We know where he's hiding," interrupted Gordon. "Arkham. And you couldn't lead a group of strong, able-bodied men there and expect any of them to come out alive. It's the most lawless hive of scum and villainy in all the West. Anyway, our job is to protect this town and its surrounding area. Arkham is hundreds of miles from here, and it isn't our concern, or anybody's concern. We just leave the criminals and murderers alone there, to rot."

"But we can't just ignore them when they terrorize and kidnap innocent people!" exclaimed Bruce.

"We would be sacrificing a lot more innocent people if we tried to stop them," said Gordon, gently. "Bruce, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but you're a greenhorn here. You don't understand how the law works out in the wild. Sometimes you just have to leave criminals to themselves, so they don't bother decent folk. Sometimes you just have to leave chaos to run wild, and focus on the things you can control. Trust me, the Joker isn't one of them."

Bruce glared at him. "I promised him I'd hunt him down and see him hanged," he muttered. "And I will."

Gordon was silent. "Look, I won't presume to tell you your own business," he said. "And I'm not keen to be looking for another deputy right away. But if you really want to fight lawlessness, sometimes the best way to do that is by being lawless yourself."

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Bruce.

"The Joker's made himself a lotta enemies," said Gordon. "And some of them aren't innocent people. There's another bandit gang who patrols the Southern borders, Mexican, led by a huge, hulk of a brute called Bane. A few years back, Joker's gang and Bane's gang got into a fight while going after the same gold train. Lotta people were killed on both sides, but Joker wounded Bane and escaped with the loot. Rumor is that Bane swore vengeance on him, and won't rest until he snaps his neck with his bare hands. He's a dangerous man, and a man of his word. Fortunately for the Joker, Bane doesn't know about Arkham. But if he ever did, if someone was willing to risk their neck by going to him with that information, someone who was willing to join him in his vendetta and risk the lives of lawless criminals against other lawless criminals…well, you might yet see Joker dead. And, if you're lucky, be able to rescue this girl too."

Bruce nodded slowly. "Do you know where Bane is?" he asked.

"Rumors only," said Gordon. "Rumor is he's holed up in a town due south of here, past the border, called _Puerta Negra._ "

Bruce nodded again. "Thank you, sheriff," he said, turning away.

"If I were you, I'd disguise yourself as much as possible," said Gordon. "You look too clean cut at the moment if you're trying to blend in with criminals. If Bane finds out you're a lawman, you're dead. He hates the law as much as he hates the Joker."

"I'll be careful," said Bruce.

"Mr. Wayne, this is far too dangerous!" protested Mrs. Quinzel. "We can't ask you to do this for Harleen's sake!"

"If I don't, she'll remain in the Joker's clutches forever," retorted Bruce. "It's a fate worse than death for her. I can't condemn her to that, if it's in my power to prevent it."

"Let me go with you," said Mr. Quinzel. "I'd do anything to get her back, even join with criminals."

"No, I won't put anyone else at risk except me," retorted Bruce. "I'm a man of the law, and this is what I do. I uphold the law. Whatever the cost."

He turned and strode from the sheriff's office. Gordon sighed heavily. "Guess I better start searching for a new deputy," he muttered.


	6. Chapter 6

"Have you ever killed someone?" asked Harleen, as Ivy stood in front of her, aiming a rifle at a row of empty bottles behind the saloon.

"Sure," said Ivy, shrugging. "And you will too. But first you gotta learn to aim. Rifles are a bit easier than pistols in that respect, so why don't you try this one for size?"

Harleen tentatively took the weapon from her, thinking it felt very heavy and clunky in her hands. "Now try to relax," said Ivy. "You should be able to feel very natural and comfortable with the weapon. If you're nervous, you won't hit anything. You've got to be confident and resolute, with your eye firmly on the target. Nobody can hit anything if they're not concentrating."

Harleen took a deep breath, aimed, and then carefully pulled the trigger. She fell back at the force of the shot, which ricocheted off a bottle and buried itself in the wall opposite.

"Ivy! Stop shooting holes in my place!" snapped Oswald Cobblepot, coming out back to assess the damage. "It's got enough gun damage from the customers!"

"I'm just teaching Harleen to shoot, Oswald," retorted Ivy. "She needs the practice."

"Well, go do it somewhere else besides near my establishment!" squawked Cobblepot. "There's about a thousand miles of desert around us, y'know! Set up targets there!"

"Yeah, yeah," muttered Ivy, grabbing the bottles off the wall. "Come on, Harleen – we'll head a little ways out of town."

They walked down the main street and out past the sign which declared the town's entrance. "Ok," said Ivy, placing the bottles down in the desert sand. "Now try again. And don't worry about hitting things here. Just relax and concentrate."

Harleen obeyed. Just as she pulled the trigger, she heard the sound of a horse rearing and whinnying behind her, which startled her, sending the bullet whizzing off into the desert.

"J, what the hell are you doing?!" snapped Ivy. Harleen turned around to see that the Joker had just reined his horse in and dismounted beside them.

"Trying to ride outta town," he retorted. "Didn't know the exit was blocked. What are you doing?"

"Teaching Harleen to shoot," said Ivy. "So the next time a dangerous man tries to lay a hand on her, she can blow his brains out."

"Yeah?" chuckled Joker, grinning at Harleen. "Doesn't look like she's hit much yet."

"It takes practice," snapped Ivy. "Which nobody is letting her have."

"Oh, don't let me interrupt!" laughed Joker. He gestured at the bottles. "Go ahead, Annie Oakley. Take your shot."

"Try again, Harleen," said Ivy, as Harleen struggled to load the gun the way she'd been taught. She clicked the magazine into place and then drew her sights along the barrel, her hands shaking. She fired, hitting the top of one of the bottles and shattering its neck.

"Not bad," said Ivy, encouragingly.

"Amateur hour," sighed Joker.

"I'm sorry I'm not a natural born killer like some of us!" snapped Harleen, glaring at him. "Frankly, I don't think it's anything to be proud of!"

Joker shrugged. "Yeah, maybe you're right," he agreed. Then he ripped out his pistol, firing six effortless shots in quick succession that hit every single bottle, shattering them. "Nothing to be proud of," he commented, sheathing his pistol again and smiling.

"I don't know who you're trying to impress," snapped Ivy.

"Myself, mostly," retorted Joker, heading back over to his horse. "And Gwyn. He's probably impressed," he said, petting the animal, who snorted.

"You've named your horse Gwyn?" asked Harleen. "Isn't that a girl's name?"

"Short for Gwynplaine," replied Joker, smiling at her. "It's from a book I like."

"I didn't think a man like you would be the reading type," said Harleen.

"I didn't think a girl like you would be the thinking type," retorted Joker. "Being blonde and all."

Harleen didn't know how to respond to that, except to stammer, "How dare you?!" again.

"You know, you should really stop saying that," chuckled Joker, mounting his horse again. "It's already gotten you into a lotta trouble. And it's the wrong way to respond when someone offends you. Here in these parts, we don't use words. We take action."

Harleen loaded the rifle again, turning it on Joker and aiming at his head. He sat calmly on his horse, checking the reins and waiting.

Harleen pulled the trigger, and the bullet flew so far off the mark that the horse didn't even flinch – he just snorted again. "I'm sure you'll get better with practice," said the Joker, sarcastically. He smiled at her and then kicked his heels into the horse, sending it galloping off into the desert with his mocking laughter ringing behind him.

"Don't mind him," said Ivy, firmly, as tears came to Harleen's eyes. "You _will_ get better."

"I don't want to get better," Harleen muttered, throwing down the rifle. "I want to get away from here. I want to be reunited with my parents and go back to a life where I didn't ever have to think about using a weapon just to walk down the street. A life where men treated me with respect, and not just as some punchline to some stupid joke."

"Don't feel bad – J treats everyone like that," said Ivy, soothingly. "It's nothing personal. He's just a scumbag. Now c'mon," she said, taking her hand. "Let's go back to the saloon and have a drink. You ever had sarsaparilla before? I think you're gonna like it..."


	7. Chapter 7

It was a few days later that Harleen finally got up the courage to leave the saloon unaccompanied. Ivy had given her a pistol to hide in a holster under her skirt, and she kept her hand close against it as she tentatively stepped through the swinging doors and out onto the main street of Arkham.

It was a dry, dusty day, mercilessly sunny, as every day had been since her arrival. Most people were trying to keep cool inside, and as such, the streets were deserted, which Harleen was very grateful for. She felt the sun beat down on her as she walked several doors down from the saloon to a building whose sign read _Dr. Jonathan Crane – Surgeon_.

She opened the door to the ringing of a bell. The front of the room was empty, and a voice behind the office door at the back called, "Just a minute!"

Harleen reached for her pistol, unsheathing it and pointing it at the door, in case of trouble. The door opened at that moment and Dr. Crane strode out of his office.

He looked up, stunned, to see the barrel of a gun pointed in his face, especially when he saw who pointed it. "That's not necessary," he said, holding up his hands. "And some would say rather uncivilized."

"I'm in a rather uncivilized town," retorted Harleen, keeping the gun aimed at him. "I need to know you mean me no harm before I drop this. Rumor is you collect body parts."

"Well, yes, from dead people," said Crane. "Not from…very attractive, living young ladies."

"So that's not why you were bidding on me?" demanded Harleen. "You didn't want to use me for parts?"

"No, I can assure you, I have all the attractive young lady parts I need," he stammered. Then he frowned. "Wait, that came out wrong…that's not what I meant at all…"

"I know what you meant," said Harleen. "I also overheard what you said to Ivy. About wanting to court me."

"Oh…you did?" stammered Crane, blushing. "Yes, well, I…meant every word…"

"I appreciate the thought, Dr. Crane, but that's not why I'm here," said Harleen. "I'm here because I need the help of someone in this town I can trust."

"Well, I assure you, you can place your trust in me," said Crane. "I'll do anything I can to help. Perhaps you'd…prefer to talk in the comfort of my office?" he asked, gesturing to the door. "I can make some tea."

Harleen lowered the gun slowly. "Do you have any sarsaparilla?" she asked.

"I'm sure I can find some," he said, heading back through the door. Harleen followed, and then froze when she saw that Crane's office held wall-to-wall row of shelves, most of which contained jars of preserved and floating body parts.

"You're not squeamish, are you?" he asked, turning to her. "I keep these around for purely academic reasons, to further the interests of science and our understanding of the human frame."

"Um…no, it's fine," stammered Harleen. But she blanched a little as he cleared off a space on the table where a brain had been floating in a jar.

"Sorry, that's Nygma's," he said, moving it. "You probably never met him – fairly intelligent specimen. My particular scientific specialty is the study of the mind – I'm hoping observations on its physical structure can increase our knowledge of its mental defects. And Nygma had plenty of those, believe me."

He placed a bottle of sarsaparilla on the table, and two glasses. "Now how may I be of assistance, my dear?" he asked, sitting down across from her and pouring her one.

Harleen took a deep breath as she took the glass. "I want to get out of here," she said. "When the Joker kidnapped me, he separated me from my parents, and I'd give anything to be with them again. We were heading to California, to settle in a place called New Gotham. I need some way to leave here and get to there, some means of transport."

Crane leaned back. "Well, I wish I could help," he said. "But I don't own a horse or cart or any means of transport. People here get wounded so frequently that I've never had any need to travel outside of Arkham to prosper financially."

"That's another thing – I don't have any means of immediately paying anyone to let me use their horse and cart," said Harleen. "And taking someone hundreds of miles across a desert is a pretty big favor. And it's not a trip I can make alone – there's a lot of dangerous country to cover. I would need an escort."

She looked at him. "You seem to be fairly respected in this town, and you must know practically everyone – I was wondering if you could ask around and find someone who would be willing to take me to California, someone with a means of doing so. They would be richly rewarded by my parents on our arrival. As would you, of course."

She took his hand. "I don't think I've misjudged you as a gentleman. Because only a gentleman would want to woo a lady and marry her rather than just try to buy her charms in a brothel. And as a gentleman, you will help a damsel in distress, won't you? Please, Dr. Crane. I wouldn't ask unless I was desperate."

Crane was utterly incapable of refusing her anything as she gazed up at him with her wide, pleading blue eyes. "Yes, of course, my dear," he stammered. "I can…do that. I'm sure someone will have the means to help, so please try not to lose heart. And you must let me know if there's anything else I can do to help you in any way."

Harleen was silent, sipping her drink. "Do you know…where the Joker lives?" she asked at last.

"I do," he said, nodding and pointing at a run-down house across the road. "May I ask why you wish to know?"

"I…want to make him pay," she muttered. "For kidnapping me, and hurting me, and humiliating me by selling me."

"Make him pay how?" asked Crane.

Harleen looked at him. "The only way people make anyone pay in this town. Through violence."

Crane looked impressed. "You've adapted rather well to this lifestyle here, no matter how much you may want to escape from it," he commented. "Anyway, I wouldn't recommend crossing the Joker, my dear. He's a very dangerous man, and not the kind of man to show any mercy toward a young lady."

"That's fine, because I'm not the one who'll be begging for mercy," she snapped. "He will be."

"I do admire your determination, my dear," Crane said, nodding. "While once again cautioning you to be careful. I'd hate to see any harm come to you, and the Joker is not a man to be underestimated."

"I appreciate your concern," she said, standing up. "But I'm not afraid of the Joker."

"Ah. Well, fear works in strange ways," said Crane. "Sometimes it deserts us in situations where we need it most. I think if a man had done to me what the Joker has done to you, I would fear him. But then you're probably far braver than I am."

"It's kind of you to say so, Dr. Crane," said Harleen, smiling at him. But as she left the room of floating body parts, she honestly doubted that she was.


	8. Chapter 8

Bruce Wayne could see the settlement of _Puerta Negra_ from a long way off, a cluster of broken and faded buildings that jutted out of the flat sand like jagged teeth, casting a huge shadow against the desert in the setting sun. Bruce adjusted his mask over his face, a mask with pointed ears, while his other hand urged his horse forward with a gentle flick of the reins. "It's ok, Ace," he murmured. "C'mon, boy."

The horse continued forward toward the lengthening shadows of the town until they enveloped them in darkness. Bruce suddenly heard a cocking of guns, and voices shouting at him in Spanish.

" _Soy un amigo_!" he called, raising his hands. " _Me gustaría hablar con Bane_!"

" _Para qué_?" demanded one of the guards on duty, peering over the wall of the building.

" _Tengo información_ ," replied Bruce. " _Sobre el Joker._ "

Bruce heard the guards muttering amongst themselves, and then one came out to meet him. " _Americano_?" he questioned, studying Bruce carefully.

Bruce nodded. "This way," said the guard, beckoning him into the dilapidated ruins of the town. Bruce dismounted from his horse and was subjected to a quick search and pat down for weapons. Then the guard nodded, and Bruce followed him through the twisting streets, noticing numerous groups of dangerous-looking men huddled in the shadows or crouched by fires, watching him with suspicious eyes.

" _Señor_ ," said the guard, pausing in front of a shape hidden in the shadows and saluting. " _Un americano está aquí con información sobre el Joker_."

Bruce saw the shadow in front of him stir, and suddenly straighten up into the light cast by the fire. He was astonished to see a huge man, a good several feet taller than Bruce and nearly twice as broad, and Bruce considered himself to be both fairly tall and broad. The man's face was hidden behind a mask, but his thick, muscled arms were bare, and riddled with scars. The brute inhaled deeply from a pipe at his lips, a pipe which gave off a strange, unfamiliar scent that made Bruce start to feel slightly dizzy.

"What about the Joker?" the man rumbled, in a voice that seemed to shake the already precariously balanced remains of the building.

"I know where he's hiding out," said Bruce, stepping forward. "And I heard you were looking for that information, and willing to pay a handsome price for it."

"Perhaps I am," agreed Bane, studying him with cold, glittering eyes as he puffed on the pipe. "But that information will only be valuable to me if the truth of it is verified."

"I can take you to him," said Bruce. "You can see the truth with your own eyes."

Bane took another drag on his pipe. "And why should I trust you?" he asked. "A man in a mask?"

"I could ask you the same question," replied Bruce. "I wear my mask because I'm wanted by the law, and would be by the Joker if he knew I was betraying him like this. I used to be in his gang, but I got tired of the way he treated us, like we were disposable objects he could destroy at will. And now I want my revenge on him, plus a tidy profit for helping you kill him."

"What is your name?" asked Bane, quietly.

"I'm known as the Batman," said Bruce. "I abandoned any other name long ago."

"Come over by the fire," said Bane. "Let me get a closer look at you."

Bruce obeyed. The light allowed him an opportunity to study Bane as well, and he was surprised to see just how damaged this giant was. He would have been taller still if he wasn't permanently hunched over a wounded torso, his back twisted and battered.

"Do you know what this is?" asked Bane, holding out the pipe to him.

Bruce shook his head. "It is _veneno_ ," he said. "Venom. It helps block pain. I must smoke it constantly, thanks to _el payaso loco._ When last we met, he managed to cripple my back. And when next we meet, I will break his."

He took a long puff from his pipe. "He is the devil, that one," murmured Bane. "Tricky and cunning and ruthless. You were lucky to escape with your life working for him."

"I know," agreed Bruce. "That's why I ran away."

"I did not get to where I am today by trusting people," said Bane. "Especially those people who claim to be informants. You could be telling the truth, or you could be leading me into a trap. So this is what I will do. I will send some scouts of mine to where you claim the Joker is hiding out. If they can confirm he is there, and they do not manage to kill him themselves, I will lead my entire gang, including you, there to finish the job. After the clown is dead and I have crushed every bone in his body to dust, you will have your reward as promised. Does this seem fair to you?"

"Yes," said Bruce. "On one condition. The clown has a girl with him, a blonde woman he kidnapped just before I left. I want her as part of my payment, alive and unharmed. Her safety must be guaranteed before I give you any information."

Bane smiled cruelly. "Yes, that makes more sense," he murmured. "A man will put up with many injustices to his person before he mutinies. But all it takes is for another man to harm the woman he cares for to make a man's desire for vengeance burn bright inside him, whatever the cost."

Bane held out an enormous hand. "Agreed. The girl will not be harmed. Do we have a deal?"

Bruce shook it firmly. "Deal," he agreed, pulling out a map. "Now gather your scouts, and I'll show you where to find Arkham."


	9. Chapter 9

As evening fell in Arkham, the saloon gradually became more packed with people, as the citizens of the town came to drown the day's toils in drink, cards, and entertainment. Currently that entertainment consisted of a ventriloquist and his dummy called Mr. Scarface, who wasn't particularly holding the crowd's attention – they were clearly getting restless for the main event, which was Ivy's girls. They had a can-can number they varied slightly every evening which was by far the highlight of the day for all the saloon's patrons.

Harleen mostly tried to stay out of the way backstage as she watched the girls dress in gaudy, revealing outfits, Ivy making last minute repairs and shouting at Selina to help her pin and sew things.

"Ivy, Harvey's here to see you," said Selina, as the two-faced man appeared backstage.

"Harvey, I'm busy!" snapped Ivy. "So unless you're here to help pin a costume, you can wait until the routine's done!"

"Nice way of talking to her fiance's she's got, huh?" sighed Harvey.

"I'll take over, Ivy," said Selina, pushing her gently out of the way. "Go see him."

Ivy sighed, but headed over to Harvey, smiling. "Sorry, honey – I am happy to see you," she murmured, kissing him. "Have you met Harleen Quinzel, our new girl?" she asked, gesturing at Harleen.

"Haven't had the pleasure," said Harvey, holding out his hand. Harleen shook it, trying to focus on the good half of his face. "Harvey Dent, pleased to meet you."

"You gonna be in the audience tonight, sweetie?" asked Ivy.

"Yeah, J's back and he's got a game of cards going, so I'm playing him," said Harvey.

"You be careful with him – you know he's got an itchy trigger finger," said Ivy. "And please try not to lose all your money this time. You know we're trying to save up for a nice place away from Arkham after we're married."

"I know," said Harvey, nodding. "But when he gives me fifty-fifty odds, what am I supposed to do? Not bet?"

"You know I think he cheats," snapped Ivy. "Keeps aces up his sleeves, I swear, or else he's got the devil's luck. I don't even know why you play with him."

"I like to take my chances," said Harvey, shrugging. "I'm a gambler, Pammie, that's just who I am."

"Yes. My dumb luck that I fell in love with a gambler," sighed Ivy, kissing him tenderly. "See you after the show, sweetheart."

Harvey left them with Ivy staring after him. "That's the thing about love, Harleen," she sighed. "It don't ever make a lick of sense."

The ventriloquist was not holding the audience – the disgruntled murmurings had now turned to boos and shouting, and things being thrown on the stage. "Get off the stage!" was heard, along with, "Bring on the girls!" This chant was taken up as seemingly everyone in the saloon started beating their feet and hands on surfaces, shouting, "Girls, girls, girls!"

"Yeah, nobody wants to see you, dummy – they wanna see the dames!" snapped Mr. Scarface, turning on the ventriloquist. "Geez, you're an embarrassment to any self-respecting dummy!"

"That's our cue," said Ivy, hearing the chanting, and she stepped out on stage to thunderous cheers and applause as the ventriloquist hurried off.

"All right, gentlemen, we hear you!" she said, beaming at the audience. "And we're not gonna tease you with waiting! Without further ado, may I present Miss Ivy's Blue Belles!"

Harleen watched the dance with mild interest from backstage, but then her eyes drifted across the audience to the card table, where Harvey and Joker were engaged in their game. Her eyes fixed on the latter, and the anger in her spirit welled up again as her grip tightened on the pistol in her dress. She wasn't going to wait any longer. She was going to shoot him tonight.

The game of cards wrapped up at last, and the Joker finished his drink and then stood up, heading for the door. Harleen managed to slip away through the crowd, waiting by the saloon door until she saw him enter his house. Then she hurried across the deserted road, guided by the light of a full moon, and went around to the back of the house. There, through the window, she saw him disappear into what she could only assume was his bedroom.

Harleen raised the latch on the back window carefully, and slipped quietly into the living room, feeling the outline of the pistol under her dress. She was going to hurt him - not kill him, but wound him bad enough so he could never kidnap anybody again. She waited in the shadows by the back door for him to emerge, her heart pounding and her body shaking in anticipation.

The door to his bedroom opened at last, and she saw him for the first time without his hat and weapons, looking relaxed, with his handkerchief removed from around his neck and the top of his shirt open slightly. Harleen noticed his hair was a bright green, an unnatural color for an unnatural man, she reckoned.

He sat down in the living room and poured himself a drink from the whiskey bottle on the table, leaning back in his armchair, whose back faced Harleen. It was now or never, she thought. She crept slightly closer, drawing her sights along the gun and aiming for his back. Just where he had hurt her, she would hurt him, and a lot deeper…

Just as her finger tightened on the trigger, he whirled around suddenly, his arm catching hers and pinning it behind her back. His other hand seized her free wrist, and suddenly slammed her back against the wall, his green eyes blazing, but the same perpetual grin on his smiling, smug face.

"Nice try, toots," he murmured. "Almost didn't hear you coming. But you breathe too loudly. Got a shaky hand, too," he said, nodding at her. "Couldn't have hit whatever you were aiming for if you ain't resolute. And you ain't resolute, little girl."

"Let go of me," hissed Harleen, glaring fury at him. "And I'll show you how resolute I can be."

"Now why would I let my potential murderer go?" he chuckled. "She'll only try to kill me again. You come into my home to murder me, and you don't leave it alive. That's only fair."

Harleen tried not to look terrified, but her body was trembling, and he felt it. "I'm not afraid of you," she hissed.

He grinned, leaning forward. "Yes, you are," he murmured, his fingers tightening on the gun behind her back.

Harleen was panicking, but somewhere in her mind, Ivy's advice to her came back. _If worst comes to worst, kiss a guy so he's off guard, and then knee him hard in the groin._ Desperate, she shut her eyes and suddenly shoved her mouth against the Joker's.

… _and knee him hard in the groin_ finished Ivy's voice, but Harleen's body wouldn't obey that part. Something had happened when she'd met his lips, some feeling that made it impossible to draw away or do anything but keep kissing him. He was clearly caught off guard by the kiss, but his own mouth began to tenderly explore hers, his tongue soft and gentle, and his hands slowly spreading along her body and then pulling her tighter into his embrace. Harleen dropped her gun to the ground with a clatter and pressed her mouth in deeper, needing more and more of him – it was a completely irrational urge, but impossible to deny.

They drew apart at last, staring at each other and breathing heavily. Then Joker stepped back, releasing her. "Go," he muttered.

"What?" she gasped.

"I said go!" he snapped. "Go, get outta my house, before I change my mind!"

She obeyed, sheer terror and instinct controlling her body, since her mind seemed stupefied and paralyzed by the kiss. Her conscience berated her, demanded to know what she was thinking, kissing a criminal like that, a criminal who had kidnapped her and sold her. But it had just been an instinct, an urge deep inside her that had demanded to be satisfied.

"Harleen! My God, what happened to you?" asked Ivy as Harleen returned to the upstairs of the saloon, pale and shivering.

"I…tried to shoot J," she gasped.

"Oh my God, are you all right?" demanded Ivy. "What the hell did he do to you?!"

Harleen gulped. "I…kissed him," she stammered.

"And kneed him in the groin?" prompted Ivy.

Harleen shook her head. "No," she gasped. "I just…kissed him. And he kissed me and…then he let me go."

Ivy stared at her. "Are you insane?!" she demanded.

"I…must be," stammered Harleen. "I must be."


	10. Chapter 10

The next day, Miss Ivy's establishment received a very unusual visitor. Ivy knocked on the door to Harleen's room. "There's someone to see you," she said. "Someone you may not want to see. I can tell him to get lost, but I thought you might want to…discuss the events of last night with him."

"Yes," said Harleen, slowly. "Yes, I do. He can…come in."

Ivy opened the door to admit the Joker. "I'm waiting outside with my gun if you lay a hand on her," growled Ivy. "And I don't miss."

She shut the door, leaving Joker and Harleen alone. Neither of them spoke. "Look, about last night…" began Harleen at last.

"I don't wanna talk about it - that's not why I'm here," he interrupted. "I'm not a big fan of living in the past, and last night was last night. We both made mistakes – you tried to kill me, and then tried to weasel outta my revenge on you by kissing me. And I…let you. That's all it was, and it's over and done with. Doesn't matter anymore."

"Oh," said Harleen, slightly disappointed. "Well, then, why are you here?"

He removed his hat, running his fingers through his green hair. "Well, I…heard you were getting Dr. Crane to ask around to see if someone could take you to California. I came here to offer my services, on the stipulation that I'm paid well when I get there, of course."

Harleen stared at him. "You…but you…kidnapped me."

"Yeah, and I got a fair price for you too," he said, nodding. "But if Miss Ivy's willing to let you go after paying that much for you, and if I stand to make a decent buck taking you someplace, why not? Just more profit for me."

"That would mean that I would be stuck with you as my companion the whole way to California," said Harleen. "A thought that I do not at all relish."

"Fine, then I take back my offer," said Joker, shrugging and heading for the door. "I'm sure you'll find someone else if my company's so objectionable to you. Or you can stay here and rot."

"You don't think Bruce will shoot you on sight if you bring me to California, to the town where he's the deputy sheriff?" demanded Harleen. "He did promise to see you hanged."

"Do I look scared?" asked Joker, turning back to grin at her.

She studied him. "I'm not sure I trust being alone with you," she muttered. "A lady shouldn't ever be alone with any man without a chaperone, and after last night…"

"Last night was a tidy bit of manipulation on your part," interrupted Joker, nodding. "You gambled I wouldn't hurt you if you kissed me and made it feel genuine. Congrats, you got away with it. Won't happen again, so don't try it again. You can be sure I won't. You can ask any of the dames here - I ain't interested in women in that way."

"Yes, Miss Ivy's…told me," stammered Harleen.

"And can you blame me when they're that devious?" he continued. "Even someone like you, who looks so innocent, trying to kill me and…playing with me like that. Lucky for you, your gamble paid off."

Harleen said nothing. "How do you know I won't try to kill you again?" she asked, quietly.

"Because I think you wanna see your parents again more than you want me dead," he retorted. "And I'm the only way you're gonna accomplish that."

"I…wasn't trying to kill you last night, I just wanted to…hurt you," muttered Harleen. "And I can't guarantee I won't try that again."

Joker chuckled. "I'll sleep with one eye open, and a gun under my pillow, like always," he said. "Believe me, you won't catch me off guard, toots."

"I did with that kiss," she retorted.

"Yeah," he agreed. "You did. But it won't happen again, like I said. I can take care of myself, and now that I know what kinda dame you are, I know to expect games from you. I won't fall for them again."

Harleen nodded. "Ok. When do we leave?"

"Tomorrow," he said, turning to go. "I'll find you a horse. You can ride a horse, right?"

"Yes," retorted Harleen. "With a proper side-saddle, of course."

Joker looked confused. "A what now?" he asked.

"A side-saddle," repeated Harleen. "That's how ladies ride horses. It would be most unladylike to…have our legs spread the way men ride."

Joker scratched his head. "Never heard of that before," he muttered. "But then I've never been stuck riding with a woman before. Ok, I'll see if I can find one of those. Maybe Tetchy will have one in that junk shop of his somewhere. If not, I'm sure Harvey can hammer out something rudimentary – that's sorta his specialty. And if we get bored on the road, I can teach you how to ride a horse for real."

"No, you won't be doing that," snapped Harleen. "I won't spread my legs in front of any man, especially not you."

She blushed as she realized what she had just said. Joker chuckled. "Bet you would have last night if you'd thought it would get me outta killing you."

"How dare you?!" shrieked Harleen, flushing red. "Get out of my room! I am not some cheap prostitute who titillates men for personal gain! Um…no offense, Miss Ivy," she stammered, as Ivy entered at the sound of the shriek.

"It's fine, I don't come cheap," retorted Ivy, shrugging. "He causing you trouble, Harleen? Should I have him removed?" she asked, folding her arms across her chest.

"That's not necessary, Miss Ivy, I was just leaving," said Joker, putting his hat back on. "We leave at dawn tomorrow, Miss Quinzel. I'll be here to pick you up then," he said, striding out the door.

Ivy glared at him until he left, and then turned to Harleen. "What did he mean by that?" she demanded.

"He's going to escort me to California," said Harleen. "To be reunited with my parents."

Ivy gaped at her. "And you trust him to do that?" she demanded.

"Yes," retorted Harleen. "I trust that his hope of a reward at the hands of my parents will see that he keeps his word."

"Harleen, I don't want you out in the wild alone with him," said Ivy. "Especially after last night..."

"He's right – last night was a mistake," interrupted Harleen. "On both our parts. Didn't mean anything. It…it felt real to me, but I'm very…inexperienced in these matters and…it obviously wasn't."

Ivy said nothing. "I understand if you really have to go," she murmured. "But I'm going to miss you, Harleen."

Harleen smiled at her. "I'm going to miss you too," she said, hugging her. "And I can't ever thank you enough for everything you've done for me. But once I'm reunited with my parents, I'll try to send some money to make up for what you paid for me, and to show my gratitude…"

"No, honey, don't you worry about that," said Ivy, smiling at her. "I didn't do anything special – it's no more than any decent soul would have done. As for what I paid for you, I'll make up those losses pretty quick. We got a booming business here, like I said."

Harleen nodded. "Well…at least let me send you a plant from California."

Ivy grinned. "Sure, honey," she said. "I'd like that. Something rare and beautiful, to remind me of you."

She hugged her tightly and then headed for the door. "Oh, and one more thing," said Ivy, reaching down to her holster and handing Harleen her pistol. "You're gonna need this out there," she said.

As she took it from her, Harleen sincerely hoped she wouldn't. Her hopes were about to be disappointed.


	11. Chapter 11

The sun rose in a ball of fire at dawn the next day, scattering rays of light through every crevice of the streets of Arkham and blinding Harleen as she watched Jervis Tetch adjust the side-saddle around her horse. Ivy and Harvey and Crane had come to say goodbye, while Joker watched Tetch work, baffled by the saddle.

"How's anybody meant to ride in that?" he demanded.

"With some skill," retorted Tetch, straightening up. "All those times people laughed at me for buying a side-saddle, and told me I'd have no use for such a thing, and lo and behold, now I do. I knew this day would come – this is why you should never listen to other people. Nothing is ever junk, even if its value isn't immediately apparent."

"Yeah, that's a good reason to spend money on random crap, all right – betting it'll someday be of use," sighed Joker. "It's called hoarding, Jervis, and it's actually a serious problem. I'd seek help if I were you."

He swung onto his horse as Crane helped Harleen onto hers.

"Safe travels, my dear," he said.

"Thank you, Dr. Crane," she said, smiling at him. "I'll send you something from California to repay your kindness to me. Is there anything you'd like?"

"No, that's not necessary, my dear," he said. He paused. "Although...perhaps if you come across any bodies with any particularly rare physical abnormalities, you could try to preserve them and send them my way."

"Um…sure, I'll try," said Harleen, slowly.

Ivy came over to hug her goodbye, saying nothing except, "If he tries anything, aim low and shoot his balls off."

"Um...I'll try," repeated Harleen. "Bye, Miss Ivy. And thank you again, for everything."

"Whelp, get along, little doggie, or whatever it is people think Westerners say," said Joker, kicking his heels against his horse. "Move 'em on, head 'em up, head 'em up, move 'em on, move 'em on, head 'em up, rawhide!"

Harleen followed him out of town, looking back at the figures of her friends, waving and gradually fading against the blinding sunlight. And then they were gone, leaving her alone with the Joker.

He was whistling a tune, which gradually turned into humming, and then eventually full-volume singing. Harleen thought that was as annoying as he could possibly be, but that was before he pulled out a harmonica.

As irritating as it was, at least Harleen didn't have to make conversation to pass the time, although it did pass slowly, especially with harmonica music. The horses plodded through the desert as the sun continued to rise, beating down upon them like a hammer and with no way to shield themselves from its incessant blows. Joker's horse seemed not to need any guidance, leaving his master free to belt out tunes on the harmonica.

"What's the matter?" he asked at last, noticing Harleen's distasteful expression. "Don't you like music?"

"Yes," retorted Harleen. "Which is why I find your playing so offensive."

He chuckled. "C'mon, you can't take a roadtrip without a little traveling music! Makes the time go faster!"

"I can assure you, it doesn't," replied Harleen.

"Well, Gwyn likes it," he said, patting the horse. "Don't you, boy?"

The horse snorted. "That's a yes," he said, smiling at Harleen.

"You put the feelings of your horse before mine?" asked Harleen.

"Sure," said Joker, shrugging. "He's a lot more valuable to me than you are. Plus I respect him a lot more."

He grinned, putting the harmonica to his lips again. Harleen tried to ignore the racket, seriously beginning to doubt whether seeing her parents again was worth this.

They rode until the sun completed its course through the burning sky. Harleen had never been able to watch that before – every inch of the sun's journey across the horizons. But there were no clouds out here, and no trees or houses to obscure the view in this barren wasteland.

They made camp as the light faded, and Joker built a fire, cooking some unappetizing-smelling and unappetizing-looking meal over it. Harleen managed to choke it down, but that was only out of sheer hunger, since they hadn't stopped for lunch.

After dinner, Joker played his harmonica some more, and Harleen began to get nervous as she heard the sounds of the desert awakening and coming alive.

"What's that?" she demanded, starting up suddenly.

"Coyote," replied Joker, calmly. "Long way off, don't worry. Probably chasing after a road runner," he chuckled.

He instantly resumed his harmonica playing, and Harleen sat down slowly, but almost instantly started up again. "What's that?" she repeated.

"Nightbird," retorted Joker. "Ain't gonna hurt you."

Harleen sat down again as Joker continued to play. "What's that?" she shrieked, standing up again a few seconds later.

"Rattler," replied Joker, nonchalantly.

"Rattler?" repeated Harleen, horrified. "You mean…a rattlesnake?"

"Yep," said Joker, nodding. He pointed. "Right behind you there."

Harleen screamed, racing over to hide behind him. "Well, that's not how you should react to rattlers!" he chuckled. "You need to stand quiet and still and not panic them, or they'll bite you. Good thing there wasn't really one behind you."

Harleen glared at him. "That's not funny!" she snapped. She suddenly heard the rattling sound again, definitely coming from behind her now.

Joker stood up. "Stay still," he said, reaching for a piece of firewood. Harleen obeyed, paralyzed with fright as he slowly approached her, raising the stick.

"Go on, get outta here," he said, gently pushing the snake away. "Not funny to scare Miss Quinzel, apparently."

The snake hissed and slithered off. "Why didn't you kill it?" demanded Harleen. "It might come back!"

"Nah, it won't," he said, putting down the stick. "It's more scared of you than you are of it. And why would I kill it? It hasn't done any harm. Just trying to survive out here, same as all of us."

"You have no qualms about killing people," pointed out Harleen.

"I don't like people," replied Joker. "I like rattlers, though. No accounting for taste, I guess."

"You probably feel a certain kinship with snakes," retorted Harleen.

"Maybe that's it," he agreed with a smile. "They are kinda cool and deadly, huh?"

"Deceitful and poisonous, more likely," retorted Harleen.

"Well, that too," he said, shrugging. "Can't play the harmonica like I can, though. They don't have any hands."

He went back to playing, and Harleen sat down again. "I think we should…sleep near each other tonight," she voiced. "For…protection."

He grinned. "Ain't too smart sleeping near a snake, toots."

"Maybe," she said. "Or maybe he can ward off the others."

He chuckled as Harleen pulled out her sleeping bag, placing it down with the fire on one side and Joker on the other. Between the constant, terrifying night noises, and Joker's incessant harmonica playing, she sincerely doubted she would be getting any sleep tonight.


	12. Chapter 12

" _Oh give me a home, where the psychopaths roam, and the thieves and the murderers play! Where stray bullets fly, though the vast desert sky, and you don't see a soul all the day!_ C'mon, toots, sing along!" called Joker to Harleen. " _Home, home on the range, where the outlaws and criminals play! Where seldom is heard an encouraging word, and the skies burn your skin off all day!_ "

Harleen did not sing along. She was already beyond tired of having to put up with, without doubt, the most irritating traveling companion anyone could ask for. She had been considering ways of making him shut up without killing him for the past few hours, but she doubted she was a good enough shot to shoot off his tongue without blowing off the rest of his face. Maybe she could kiss him again, and then bite down on his tongue. The thought of kissing him again suddenly made a warm feeling flare up inside her, and she felt herself blushing under the heat of the sun. She hadn't enjoyed it, she reminded herself – it had just been a means to an end. As this would be. The feelings she had felt when she had kissed him had been inexplicable and wrong, and she in no way wanted to feel them again, she assured herself. Otherwise it would mean that she actually felt something for this horrible, annoying man, even if it was just base lust, and what sort of perverted person could possibly feel that for this cruel psychopath?

Anyway, even if she bit his tongue, he could probably still play the harmonica. And at least the singing was better than that. So kissing him was completely out of the question. Thankfully.

She was startled out of her thoughts by the Joker asking, "Why ain't you singing along?"

"I don't know the words," retorted Harleen. "And I don't sing."

He shrugged. "Just thought I'd try and include you – I can give you a key if you need," he said, pulling out the harmonica and grinning.

Harleen found herself praying for some horrible accident to occur…and her prayers were suddenly answered.

Without warning, she heard the sound of two shots being fired, and Joker's horse suddenly reared in panic. Harleen heard Joker roar in pain, and looked down to see blood pouring from his leg, as the other bullet whizzed over his head. Her own horse began panicking and bucking up and down, and Harleen leaped off it, falling to the ground and looking around for the origin of the shots.

It didn't take long to discover. Two men suddenly emerged from behind a cluster of rocks around the edge of the surrounding canyon. Joker had fallen off his horse, gasping in pain and clutching his leg, and the men approached him, guns raised.

" _Señor_ Bane sends his regards," murmured one, pointing the gun straight at Joker's face.

Harleen acted completely on instinct. Before she even had time to think, she had reached for the gun on her saddle, aiming it at the man about to fire at Joker. She took a deep breath, kept her eye fixed on her target, and pulled the trigger.

The man screamed as the bullet hit him in the arm, dropping his gun. His companion turned and began firing at Harleen. She ducked, feeling the bullets fly over her as she tried to keep her head down, aiming the gun again and returning fire. By this time, Joker had managed to grab his own gun, and shot the man firing at Harleen through the head. The other raced off, leaping onto his horse and galloping away across the desert. Harleen hurried over to Joker, who dropped the gun, gasping in pain again.

"How bad is it?" he hissed, as Harleen stared at the wounded leg.

"Bad," she replied. "We…we gotta get you back to Dr. Crane. It might need to be amputated…"

Joker shook his head. "No…" he gasped.

"If it gets infected you could die!" snapped Harleen. "We're getting you back to Dr. Crane, and that's final!"

She held out her hand. "C'mon, lean on me," she said.

He hissed again, pulling himself up and collapsing onto her shoulder. Harleen tried to ignore the blood staining her dress as she helped him onto his horse.

"Gwyn, try to be gentle," she said, sure the horse couldn't understand her, but it snorted as if in acknowledgement. Harleen mounted her own horse and rode next to Joker, trying to help steady him when he faltered.

"I'm all right," he growled. "I've had worse than this."

"It looks really bad," murmured Harleen.

"Looks can be deceiving," he snapped, but he hissed again suddenly. Harleen stared at him in concern. It was only some time after that she realized she really shouldn't have been too upset about it – she had almost tried to shoot him not so long ago, after all, and had wished for something bad to happen to him. She didn't know why she felt so guilty.

They camped that night for a few hours only – Harleen insisted that they keep moving so they could get to Dr. Crane as soon as possible, so that there might be some chance of saving Joker's leg. He didn't argue, just lay down next to her and the fire, occasionally hissing in pain.

"Do you know who those men were?" asked Harleen. She couldn't sleep either.

"Not exactly," he muttered. "But I know who they were from. Bane."

"Who's Bane?" asked Harleen.

"Old pal of mine," retorted Joker.

"Do all your old friends try to kill you?" asked Harleen.

"Most of them," agreed Joker with a smile, that quickly turned into a grimace of pain. "I mean, look at you, kid."

"What about me?" she asked.

"They weren't aiming for you," he murmured. "They were after me. They could have shot me, and you could have gotten away while they were distracted. But you didn't run away. You turned their fire onto yourself to save my life. When you were gonna kill me yourself only a few days ago."

"I…I didn't think about it," stammered Harleen. "It was just…instinct."

Joker chuckled. "I like a girl whose first instinct is to shoot!" he laughed. "Takes guts. And glad to see your aim's improved too – you could have shot me if you hadn't been concentrating."

"Well, lucky for you I was," retorted Harleen.

"I wasn't trying to insult you," he replied. "I was trying to thank you. For saving my life."

Harleen felt the warmth of the fire creep over her body. "Well, it was…nothing. Instinct, like I said," she replied. "No need to thank me."

He shrugged. "Ok then. I won't," he said, rolling over to face away from her. Harleen listened to the fire crackling and the sounds of the desert.

"I don't know how anybody can sleep out here," she muttered to herself.

"I find it kinda soothing," said Joker. "The sounds of the wild. Out here, it's just you and nature. No pretenses to civility, no society, just pure, wild chaos. But there's a certain order to it too, and a certain beauty. Even out in this barren wasteland, life goes on."

"If you can call this life," agreed Harleen.

"Well, what do you call life?" he asked. "Paying social calls? Tea parties? Husband hunting?"

"Don't be absurd!" snapped Harleen. "I've never hunted for a husband in my life!"

"Well, what are you so eager to get back to, then?" he asked. "I get that you wanna see your parents again, but then what? What are you gonna do in California for the rest of your life? Settle down with the deputy sheriff and start a family of do-gooders?"

"What I do with my life is none of your business," retorted Harleen.

"Guess not," he agreed. "Just making conversation to distract from the fact that there's a bullet in my leg, and it's probably gonna need to be sawed off."

"Well, that's what you get for playing the harmonica," snapped Harleen. "That probably led them right to us."

Joker chuckled. "Yeah, probably," he agreed. "Kinda a good joke on me, ain't it?"

"If you consider horrible wounds to be funny," said Harleen.

"Yeah, I do," he said. "Less funny when they're my wounds, but I'm not that picky. Don't know how I'm gonna ride with one leg, though."

Harleen smiled. "You can always borrow my side-saddle," she said.

He laughed hysterically, which gradually turned into a cry of pain. Harleen sat up and picked up her pillow, sliding it under his leg. "Keep it elevated," she said. "I won't be able to sleep anyway. But you try to get some rest – it will help the wound heal."

"What if there's a snake tonight?" he asked, grinning.

"I'll shoot it," she retorted. "I already shot one today."

"I thought I was the snake, not Bane's guys," he said.

"Nah, you're not a snake," she said, with a smile. "Otherwise you wouldn't be in pain now. Snakes don't have any legs."

Joker laughed, and then suddenly hissed in pain again. "Well, maybe I won't either soon enough," he muttered. "Yep, quite the joke on me, really. Quite the joke."


	13. Chapter 13

The next day, Miss Ivy's establishment received another unusual visitor. "Dr. Crane," said Ivy, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

Crane was silent, and clearly very nervous. "I was wondering…if you were serious about your…offer to me a few days ago."

"Offer?" repeated Ivy. Her mind trailed back to the day Harleen had left. Ivy had seen Crane in the saloon drinking heavily and lamenting the fact that he had lost the only girl he could ever love. Mostly to shut him up, Ivy had told him to come see her and she'd give him a discount if he'd stop whining. She hadn't really thought he'd accept, but she was a woman of her word, so she shrugged. "Sure. You interested?"

Crane nodded slowly. "On a set of conditions," he said, holding up his finger. "One, you do not mention to anyone that I was ever here as a customer."

"I am the soul of discretion, Crane," retorted Ivy. "Ask anyone."

He held up another finger. "Two, you don't make any negative comments about my…physical attributes or…quality of performance, or lack thereof."

"Yeah, I wouldn't be very popular in this business if I insulted the guys who paid for me," retorted Ivy. "Well, not unless you're into that sort of thing. But my job is to make you feel good, nothing else."

He held up a third finger. "Three, that I get to experience…the full hour of service, no matter how…quickly certain…things might occur."

Ivy smiled. "I charge by the hour, honey. It's up to you how many…experiences your body can take in that time."

He nodded. "Very well, then. I accept your offer."

Ivy held out her hand. "Come with me," she said, leading him to her room and shutting the door. "Are you more comfortable with me undressing first, or you, or together?" she asked.

"I…I don't know," he stammered, clearly nervous. "Whatever's…usual."

"Well, everyone has their own preferences," she replied. "Here, let me help you," she said, reaching up to remove his jacket. "And there's no need to be afraid – I ain't gonna hurt you."

"I'm not afraid," he snapped.

"You're shaking," she said. "Just try to relax, Crane. This is meant to be fun. Can I call you Crane, or would you prefer Johnny?"

"I would prefer…Jonathan," he stammered. "Or…Doctor."

"All right," said Ivy, reaching down to his belt. "Can I see him?" she asked.

He nodded and she gently undid his fly. "Oh, he's so cute," she purred, peeking inside.

"He is not cute!" snapped Crane, shoving her away and buttoning up his fly. "Honestly, I thought you were meant to be a professional at this! What kind of person enjoys his manhood being called cute?!"

"I'm just trying to relax you," retorted Ivy. "You know, so there's actually something there for me to work with."

Crane sputtered to respond, but they were both saved further embarrassment by the door being thrown open. "Ivy, where's…" began Harvey Dent, but he paused at the scene in front him. "Dr. Crane?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm just here for a…medical examination," invented Crane, hastily.

"Um…ok," said Harvey, slowly. "Well, you're needed urgently. Someone's seriously injured."

"Oh, thank God for that!" exclaimed Crane, relieved to be able to get out of this awkward situation, and vowing never, ever to attempt to visit a brothel again, no matter how hopeless he might feel in terms of women.

They all three ran out of the saloon onto the main street of Arkham, where a sizable crowd had gathered at the entrance to the town. "Harleen?" gasped Ivy in disbelief, as the figures entering the town became visible. "I thought you were on your way to California!"

"We were ambushed," said Harleen, helping Joker down from his horse. "J's been shot."

"Out of the way," said Crane, shoving through the crowd and reaching Harleen and Joker. "We'll take him to my office so I can look at the wound properly."

"Don't get amputation happy like you usually do!" snapped Joker. "I don't wanna lose this leg unless absolutely necessary!"

Together, Crane and Harleen helped Joker into the surgery and lay him down on the operating table. Crane threw open the curtains to let the light in, and then bent down closely to examine the wound.

"It should be salvageable," he muttered at last. "You got here in time. But I need to work quickly to stop the infection spreading."

He reached for his tools. "You might want to wait outside, my dear," he said to Harleen. "This won't be pretty."

Harleen nodded slowly, turning to leave. Her hand was suddenly seized in a death grip by the Joker. "Stay," he hissed, through clenched teeth.

"I…should stay," she said, slowly. "Just in case you need assistance."

"That's very courageous of you, my dear, but if you faint I'll have another patient to worry about," Crane said. "I don't need the distraction, and neither does the Joker."

"I'm not the fainting type, Dr. Crane," retorted Harleen. "Just tell me what I can do to help."

He nodded slowly. "Get some water," he said. "And a rag, and that leather strap over there."

"What's that for?" asked Harleen, obeying him.

"For the pain," retorted Crane. "Gives him something to bite down on so he doesn't damage his jaw or chew through his tongue or something. Put it in his mouth, between his teeth there."

Crane reached for an apron, and tossed a spare at Harleen. "And put this on. There's going to be a lot of blood."

Harleen felt her fingers going numb in Joker's grip. She unconsciously began to stroke his hand gently and soothingly. "It's going to be all right," she whispered. "I'm sure it's going to be all right."

"I thank you for your confidence in me, my dear," said Crane, who believed she was speaking to him. "I'll certainly do my best."

And he did, although his best was still agony to watch, and obviously agony to experience for Joker. He roared and writhed as Crane tended the wound, digging in to try to remove the bullet and any remaining shrapnel.

"If you don't hold still, I _will_ kill you, and it might not be on purpose!" Crane shouted at last. "Miss Quinzel, try to hold him down."

Harleen wondered how exactly she was supposed to do that, since Joker was clearly stronger than her, but she leaned over him, trying to put all her weight against him. "It's all right," she repeated, gazing down into his eyes.

She didn't know what possessed her, except the urge to calm him, but she suddenly bent down and planted a gentle kiss on his forehead. His hand was still shaking in her grip, and she held it tightly, praying that it would all be over soon.

"Got it!" exclaimed Crane, removing the last bit of shrapnel from the wound. He began to bandage it up tightly, and Harleen let out a sigh of relief.

"You can remove the leather strap," said Crane, nodding at her. She obeyed.

"How are you feeling?" asked Harleen, smiling at Joker.

"Like I need a drink," he gasped.

"I think we all do," agreed Crane, wiping the sweat from his forehead and reaching for a decanter of whiskey. "A drink and a bath to get the blood off. Miss Quinzel, why don't you head back to Miss Ivy's – you've had a trying day. I can take care of him from here."

Harleen nodded, carefully pulling her hand out of Joker's grip. "Will it take long for the wound to heal?" she asked.

"A good week, at least," replied Crane.

"I'll be back on my feet in a few days," muttered Joker.

"Who's the doctor here?" demanded Crane.

"I heal fast," retorted Joker. "Don't you worry, toots," he said, looking at Harleen. "You'll be back on the road to California soon."

Harleen nodded again, heading for the door. She glanced back at Joker. "Take your time," she said. "I'm not in any hurry to leave again."

That was true, she realized, as she climbed the familiar stairs to her room in Miss Ivy's establishment. She felt nothing so much as a sense of relief, relief that the Joker would be all right…and relief that she had come back home. Because that was how Arkham felt to her now. Home, full of people she cared about, and who cared about her. It was crazy, but Harleen was beginning to come to the conclusion that so was she.


	14. Chapter 14

Bruce Wayne was shaken awake in the middle of the night by one of Bane's men, who gestured for him to follow him. Bruce obeyed, rubbing his eyes sleepily as he was led back into the presence of Bane.

"My scout has returned," he rumbled.

"I thought you sent two?" said Bruce.

"And only one has returned," agreed Bane, nodding at the man with the bandaged arm. "The other was killed by _el payaso loco_."

"Not a very good ambush if he managed to shoot both your men," commented Bruce.

"This one was not shot by the Joker," murmured Bane. "He was shot by the blonde woman with him. He tried to kill the Joker, and she saved his life."

"That…can't be right," stammered Bruce. "Or…that woman can't be Miss Quinzel. Why would she…save her kidnapper?"

"He is not a liar," growled Bane, gesturing to the scout. "He knows what he saw. And in light of this information, our deal must be altered. If your _señorita_ has thrown her lot in with the Joker, she must suffer his same fate. I will not spare her life only to have her shoot me in the back as revenge for her lover's death."

"I'm sure he's not her lover," snapped Bruce.

"Does the thought of that bother you so much that you must dismiss it out of hand?" asked Bane. "You must not blind yourself to that possibility. Why else would she save the life of such a man?"

"I…don't know," said Bruce, slowly. "Maybe she couldn't bear to see a man killed before her eyes, even a man such as that. She has a sweet, generous, sensitive nature…"

"She used a gun like a trained killer," snapped Bane. "Perhaps you do not know her as well as you think."

Bruce was silent. "The image of that clown violating her against her will must burn before your eyes," murmured Bane. "Her struggling against him and begging him to stop. How much worse must it be to imagine him violating her with her consent, enjoying his filthy touch and begging for more…"

"That's enough," snapped Bruce. "If you're hoping to get me angry enough to consent to her being killed, that will never happen. I will not alter our deal – the girl is not to be harmed."

"No woman is worth risking your safety and gambling your life," growled Bane. "And I will not risk mine or my men for this _puta_. She dies with him."

Bruce was silent. "Let us ride to Arkham," he murmured at last. "Let us tell them to send out the Joker to you. If they do that, the town will not be harmed, nor anyone in it, including Miss Quinzel. You will have your revenge on your enemy, and I will rescue Miss Quinzel myself."

"You assume she wants to be rescued," retorted Bane. "She might shoot you on sight."

"That is my business," snapped Bruce. "At least this way she'll be safe. The residents of Arkham won't be stupid enough to risk an attack by an armed gang just to save the Joker's miserable life. They'll send him out to die to preserve their safety."

Bane shrugged. "It matters not to me if I kill one man or a hundred, as long as I kill the Joker. We will try it your way."

Bruce nodded, about to head off. He felt Bane seize his arm. "But if they do not send out the Joker, I will slaughter them all," Bane growled. "Men and women, innocent and guilty. All will suffer who shelter the clown, without exception and without mercy."

"They will send him out," insisted Bruce. "There is no honor among thieves or criminals. And Arkham is full of nothing else. They are a cowardly, superstitious lot who would betray their own mothers to preserve their own, miserable lives. They will most certainly betray the Joker."

"I hope for your sake you are right," said Bane, softly. "For your sake, and for the _señorita._ Perhaps the devil has twisted her mind so much that she can no longer see what a monster he is. _El diablo_ is cunning in that way."

"The Joker's not the devil," retorted Bruce. "He's a man. And he can be killed like any other man."

"He will be," agreed Bane. "I will take his miserable body in my bare hands and…"

He picked up a thick beam from the ruined building and snapped it in two, with barely more effort than a child would take to snap a twig. "And maybe then, the spell he has over your _señorita_ will shatter just like his spine," he muttered, tossing the broken beam at Bruce's feet.

"One can only hope," agreed Bruce.

"Get some rest," said Bane, turning away. "We move out at dawn, and we will ride hard until we reach Arkham. The clown is wounded and weak, and we will strike now, before he recovers his full strength. I have waited a long time for my revenge on him, and I will wait no longer. He will rue the day he crossed Bane. I will wipe that perpetual smile off his face and have him begging me for death before I finally grant it to him."

Bruce left him, muttering under his breath, "Not if I get to him first."

Bruce was still a law man. And even though he was working with Bane, he wanted to be the one to bring the Joker to justice, to duel him and win, and to rescue Harleen from his clutches. He couldn't believe that what Bane's scout had reported had been true – Harleen could never have sided with the clown. It must have been some trick on her part, some ploy to get the Joker to trust her so she could stab him in the back and escape. Bruce admired her cool thinking in times of crisis – she was clearly a rare woman. It made him more determined than ever to save her. Nobody deserved to be trapped among freaks and monsters, especially not Harleen Quinzel.


	15. Chapter 15

The saloon was packed for another evening as Ivy's girls took the stage. Harleen was watching from the audience this time, sitting on a bench in between Harvey and Tetch. The act finished to rapturous applause when the doors to the saloon swung open and Dr. Crane entered, followed by the Joker.

He was walking with a limp, and occasionally steadying himself against the wall, but seemed to be mostly recovered. Harleen met his eyes as both he and Dr. Crane came over to join them.

"You just missed Ivy's show," said Harvey, making room for Joker on the bench.

"Gee, what a loss," said Joker, sarcastically. "Curse this stupid wound making me skip quality entertainment like that."

"I told him not to rush and take things slowly – putting too much weight on his leg when it's trying to heal is inadvisable," snapped Crane. "But he won't listen to me, as usual. Seems to think he knows better than his doctor."

"J, we weren't expecting you up and about this early," said Ivy, sauntering off stage and straight into Harvey's arms. "Kinda hoping we wouldn't have to see your face around here for a while."

"Well, you should chide your friend there," said Joker, nodding at Harleen. "The guys who ambushed us woulda made sure nobody saw my face anywhere ever again, but she shot 'em."

"Yeah, that's kinda a cruel joke to play on the rest of us, Harleen," sighed Ivy. "Forcing us to be stuck with J for longer than necessary."

"I didn't really…think about it," murmured Harleen, tearing her eyes away from Joker and glancing down at the floor.

"Harvey, how about a game of cards?" asked Joker. "I've been dying for some entertainment after being cooped up in Crane's Fortress of Boredom."

"Nah, I can't, J," replied Harvey. "I promised Ivy I'd cut back on the gambling to save up for our wedding."

"Don't know why you'd bother getting married," retorted Joker. "She gives up the goods to you for free already. Anyway, I'd be embarrassed to be marrying the town mare everybody else has taken a ride on."

"Not everybody else," voiced Tetch. "Some of us don't engage with prostitutes."

"Yes, quite right," agreed Crane, hastily. "What sort of weak-willed man would do that?"

Ivy just looked at Crane. "Gee, I dunno," she snapped. "People with cute attributes, I guess."

"Shut up, woman!" hissed Crane.

"I want to marry Ivy because I love her," said Harvey. "It's not about the sex – it's about wanting to spend the rest of your life with the person you love. I mean, I guess the sex is a part of that, but there's more to love than that."

"And trust me, you can have one without the other," laughed Ivy. "I should know!"

"So…if you were feeling…a physical urge toward someone…that doesn't mean you're in love with them, does it?" stammered Harleen. "That's…that's something completely different, isn't it? Something filthy and wrong, and something that should be suppressed. Right?"

Everyone stared at her. "It depends, I guess," said Ivy, slowly. "Sex can certainly be a part of love, and can lead to deeper feelings, but just wanting sex with someone doesn't mean you're in love with them, no."

"I proposed to Pammie because I love and respect her as a person," said Harvey. "And her profession doesn't bother me because I love all of what she is. I'm not jealous, because I know she loves me too, and she's smart enough to be able to separate her business from her feelings. When compared to my feelings for her, any bad stuff she's done doesn't seem to matter anymore. It all just fades away, because in my eyes, she's absolutely perfect. That's love."

He stood up. "And because I respect her, I'm respecting her wishes by not playing cards, and instead spending time with her. See you all later," he said, walking up the stairs to Ivy's room holding her hand.

"I should…go too," stammered Harleen, standing up. "Mr. Joker, good to see you on the mend. Goodnight."

She hurried up the stairs into her room, entering and shutting the door behind her. The discussion about love had led to some very uncomfortable images and feelings regarding the Joker, and she wasn't in the mood to think about those things right now. It was all too confusing, trying to work out if she loved or hated him, if she was just bizarrely physically attracted to him, or if she felt something deeper than that. She vowed to get some rest, sure that she would feel better in the morning.

Harleen had changed into her nightgown and was just about to put the lamp out when a soft knock came on her door. Expecting Ivy, she went to go open it, and her whole face flushed when she saw that it wasn't Ivy standing there.

"What…are you doing here?" she stammered, trying to conceal the fact that she was only wearing her nightgown.

"I wanted to see you," murmured Joker. "To thank you again for saving my life. And my leg."

"Dr. Crane saved your leg," said Harleen. "I…didn't do anything."

"You got me back to Arkham in time," he replied. "You stayed with me through the surgery. You made it bearable."

"I hardly think I did," protested Harleen.

"You stayed when I asked you to," he interrupted. "You told me it was gonna be all right. You…kissed me. I had your image and your hand to hold me through that ordeal, your pretty face right there in front of my eyes, your pretty lips soothing me…I owe you my life and limb." He smiled. "It's not…a situation I'm used to, believe me. I don't know how to repay you."

He was looking at her in a way that made Harleen feel uncomfortable, and made an already deep blush grow even deeper.

"Well…that's not necessary," she stammered. "It was nothing. But it really is very late, and…I'm not dressed, so…I'll see you later. Goodnight," she said, shutting the door hastily.

She leaned against it, breathing heavily. And then she felt him knock again. She opened the door. "Was there something else?" she asked. "And can't it wait until morning?"

"No," he murmured. "It can't."

And he suddenly seized her in his arms, kissing her passionately. Harleen responded instantly, happiness washing through her whole body, flooding every fiber of her being.

"N…no, Mr. Joker, please stop," she gasped as he drew away at last. "This…this isn't right. You shouldn't be here like this…we shouldn't be alone together when I'm not dressed…you shouldn't…you shouldn't make me feel the way you do. It's all wrong."

"Yeah," he agreed. "It is wrong. But are you gonna deny it's true? Your feelings for me, they might be wrong, but they're there. Aren't they?"

"I don't know what I feel," she whispered, gazing at him with tears in her eyes. "I can't love a man like you."

"But you do, don't you?" he asked, quietly.

"I…don't know," she stammered. "I know…I want you badly. But I don't know if what I'm feeling is love."

"I want you badly too," he murmured. "And I'm not one for a lotta talk about feelings. Why don't we just get down to business and see where it goes?"

"I'm not a prostitute," said Harleen. "I won't be bought and used just for physical gratification."

"I'm not asking to buy you," he murmured. "I'm asking if you wanna give yourself to me. The way I wanna give myself to you."

Harleen gazed at him. "I…I don't know what's wrong with me," she whispered. "I don't know why I want a man like you. But I do. I do. And I'd have to be crazy to deny it anymore."

And then he was kissing her again. She grabbed his handkerchief and dragged him into her room, and they fell against the door together, their mouths never separating.

"Ow, ow, ow, wounded leg!" reminded Joker, as Harleen pressed herself against it.

"Sorry," she gasped, drawing away. "You're right, this is too soon, and you need rest. Maybe we should reconsider…"

She gasped as he lifted her off her feet. "We should get me into bed," he murmured, grinning.

She grinned back, taking his face in her hands and pressing her mouth into his. He pressed her gently down on the bed, climbing on top of her. Harleen felt every inch of her body throbbing with life and need. Maybe this wasn't love, but she didn't care at this point. She didn't care about anything but him.

"So…should I pay you?" asked Joker as they lay naked in bed together later.

"How dare you?!" snapped Harleen. "I told you, I'm not a prostitute!"

"I know, it was just a joke, kid!" chuckled Joker. "You gotta learn not to be so sensitive if you're gonna be my lover!"

Harleen blushed. "You mean…you want to do this again? Long term?"

"Don't you?" he asked.

"Well, yes," she admitted. "I just…don't know if I should…continue to engage in such behavior with…a man I…might not love."

"You don't love me?" he asked. "You sure?"

"No," she whispered. "That is, I think I do, but I don't know…how to feel. I don't know what's real…"

He silenced her with a kiss. "That felt real to me," he murmured. "I've never been the sorta guy who wavers in between positions. Hard and resolute, that's me, and when I want something, I take it. I wanted you. And I can freely admit that I'm crazy about you, kid. You do something to me nobody's ever done before. And I've never felt anything like this before for anyone."

"Neither have I," admitted Harleen. "And crazy is a good way to describe how I'm feeling. I guess that's how I know it's real love. What you are…an outlaw and a bandit, that doesn't matter to me anymore either. I just…don't want to be apart from you ever again. I don't want to go to California unless you're coming with me."

Joker chuckled. "I doubt your parents would approve of your choice."

"Then I'll stay here with you," she whispered. "Where you are…that's my home. I…love you."

It felt so good to say it aloud, and so right. She beamed. "I love you," she repeated. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

He smiled and pressed her down on the bed again. Harleen's door opened at that moment. "Harleen, have you seen…" began Ivy, but her eyes widened in shock when she saw the situation in the room.

"Oh…God," she stammered, as Joker sat up, glaring at her.

"You should knock before entering a lady's boudoir, Miss Ivy – you'd think you of all people would know that!" snapped Joker.

"Harleen…tell me he's paid you a lot," said Ivy, slowly.

"He hasn't paid me," said Harleen, blushing. "I love him."

Ivy sighed heavily. "Like I said before, love don't make a lick of sense," she muttered. "I'll leave you to it – need to go be sick somewhere. Excuse me."

"She's probably just jealous – she's been after me for years," said Joker, as the door shut.

"Wouldn't surrender to her, huh?" asked Harleen, grinning.

He shook his head. "Not the surrendering type," he replied. "Not for anybody but you, toots."

Harleen beamed. "All right, then, outlaw," she said. "Hands up."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, obeying.

Harleen giggled. "Gee, I can make you do anything, huh?"

"Nope," he retorted, kissing down her leg. "You can't make me leave you alone. You're my gal now, and come hell or high water, I ain't giving you up for anything."

She smiled. "Ok, then, outlaw," she murmured. "Why don't you show me why you're considered the most dangerous man in the West?"

"You want me to get my gun and shoot someone?" he asked, puzzled.

"No, I want…you to resume what we were doing," retorted Harleen.

"How does that make me dangerous?" he asked.

"Well, you don't think having a weapon that a girl craves more and more of makes you dangerous?" asked Harleen, grinning.

He grinned back. "Guess it does at that," he chuckled. "All right, toots. Let's go for a ride."


	16. Chapter 16

The next morning, Harleen helped Joker down the stairs to breakfast in the saloon. His arm was draped over her shoulder, and she steadied him carefully on each step, smiling at him.

"Joker, how's your leg this morning?" asked Crane, who was already at breakfast with Tetch.

"Feeling pretty good, Doc," replied Joker. "My whole body is feeling pretty, real good after last night," he said, grinning at Harleen as she helped him into a chair.

"Oh yes? What happened last night?" asked Crane.

"Oh my God, I thought it had been a horrible dream!" exclaimed Ivy, who made her way down the stairs with Harvey. "But it wasn't, was it? You actually slept with the Joker, Harleen?

"We made love," said Harleen, blushing slightly.

"Quite a few times," added Joker, chuckling and kissing her.

Crane stared at both of them. "No," he gasped. "Oh no, no, no!" He stood up. "If you'll excuse me, I have to go vomit up my breakfast."

"That was my reaction too," said Ivy, nodding as Crane dashed outside.

"I would be offended if I cared at all what you losers think, but I don't," retorted Joker. "I'm quite the catch for any woman, y'know. At least Harley sees that."

"Harleen," corrected Ivy.

"Nope, not anymore," said Joker. "She's my little Harley Quinn, ain't that right, sweets? Get it? Harley Quinn, like the clown?"

"And he's my bad, naughty, outlaw Joker," purred Harleen, kissing him. "Two clowns in a pod, ain't we?"

"I might join Crane in being sick," said Ivy, reaching for her breakfast.

The door to the saloon swung open suddenly to reveal Crane standing there, looking panicked. "Johnny, what is it?" asked Joker.

"See for yourself," he stammered, pointing outside. "They've got us completely surrounded!"

"Who has?" demanded Ivy, racing to the door.

"Them!" exclaimed Crane, pointing.

Joker hobbled over to join them with Harleen's help, peering out the doors onto the main street of Arkham. "Aw, no," he muttered. "I can't even have one day without someone trying to kill me, can I?"

A huge line of men stood at the entrance to the town, stretching for miles away across the desert. At their head was a huge, hulking brute in a mask, who shouted into the crowd gathered on the main street.

"People of Arkham," he announced. "I am Bane! And I have come for the Joker! We have a score to settle, he and I – a duel to the death, _mano a mano_! I know the _payaso_ is in your town, and wounded. Send him out, and you will all be spared. Try to shield him, and you will all be slaughtered, down to the last man. You have one hour. If he is not out by then, my men will swarm your town and kill you all along with him. Make your choice, and make sure it is the right one."

Bane reached for the sign at the town's entrance, taking it between his two giant hands and crushing it into bits. Then he turned away.

"Whelp, it's been nice knowing you, J," said Harvey, clapping Joker on the back. "Good luck with him."

"Yes, you should think of this as a noble act, sacrificing yourself to save the town," said Tetch, nodding. "That will probably make you feel better about going to your doom."

"I'll even be nice to you for the last hour, as a parting gift," said Ivy.

"Hang on, you mean you people are actually going to send me out to fight that monster alone?" demanded Joker.

"Well, you heard him," retorted Crane. "If we don't, he'll destroy the town. You're not worth that."

"Anyway, you probably did something to deserve his anger at you," pointed out Ivy. "This is probably you getting your just desserts. I don't see any reason why we shouldn't send you out there like he asks."

"Because I'll be killed!" snapped Joker.

"Probably," agreed Harvey, nodding. "But hey, it was a good ride while it lasted, huh? And at least you got to spend your last night alive with a beautiful woman."

"More than some of us will ever get to, no matter how long we live," muttered Crane.

"Y'know, I offered!" snapped Ivy.

"I just don't see any reason why anyone here should stick our necks out for you," continued Harvey.

"Because…I love him," murmured Harleen, tears in her eyes as she gazed around at her friends. "Please, you can't send him out there to die alone. You just can't let that happen."

"Harleen, you can't ask us to sacrifice our own lives for him," retorted Ivy. "You'll learn to love again, trust me. Probably someone a lot better than the clown too, not that that would be difficult."

Harleen gazed at Joker, and took his hand. "If he goes out there, I'm going with him," she murmured.

"My dear, think about what you're doing!" exclaimed Crane. "You can't sacrifice yourself for that monster! It's not worth it!"

"And I'm not letting you die like that!" snapped Ivy.

"Then you can't send him out," murmured Harleen. "Because that's the only way to stop me going with him. Where he goes, I go."

"But we'll all be killed if we don't do what he says!" snapped Harvey.

"Perhaps not," said Tetch, gently. "Perhaps…I might be of assistance."

They all turned to look at him. "Follow me to my junk shop," he said, holding open the saloon door.

They obeyed, and he led them through the shop to a backyard area, where giant machines and contraptions whirled away, apparently powered by steam or sunlight. "What is all this stuff?" asked Harleen, looking around.

"My own inventions," said Tetch. "Built from apparently useless junk. Some of which are weapons of one kind or another. This is a repeating cannon," he said, gesturing to a machine. "Shoots several cannonballs per round. And this is a dynamite gun," he said, pointing at a contraption. "Which is fairly self-explanatory."

"So…you want us to have a battle in the town, cause mass destruction and death, and most definitely lose some of our own citizens, all in an effort to save the Joker's life?" asked Crane, slowly.

"Well, his and Miss Quinzel's," said Tetch, shrugging. "But that's about the size of it, yes. I don't really see that we have another choice."

"I don't think we do," sighed Ivy. "If Harleen's really going to be this stubborn."

"I am," said Harleen, firmly, squeezing Joker's hand and beaming at him.

Harvey sighed, heading back toward his forge. "In that case, we'd better start getting ready for battle."


	17. Chapter 17

Bane stared into Arkham as he watched the sun make its way across the sky. "Time is almost up," he muttered. "And they have not sent out the clown."

"I…don't understand," stammered Bruce, sincerely. "Why…would they risk their own lives for that scum?"

"Perhaps they are mad," retorted Bane. "Very well. It makes no difference to me how much blood I spill today."

"Let me go in there," said Bruce. "Let me try to get Miss Quinzel out. You can do what you want with the others, but she's innocent."

Bane looked at him. "I am attacking when I said," he murmured. "If you go in, and are not out by then, so be it. You will suffer the same fate."

Bruce nodded, and then urged his horse into the town. The main street was strangely quiet and deserted, but Bruce could see flurries of activities going on through the windows of buildings. He dismounted in front of the saloon and attempted to enter its swinging doors, but they were blocked by something. Bruce peered over to see that a barricade had been erected, preventing any easy entrance and exit. With some difficulty, Bruce managed to pull himself up and over the doors into the saloon. Nobody inside seemed to notice him – they were too busy rushing back and forth passing out weapons and nailing planks over windows. Bruce looked around to see that Harleen was among the people working, handing guns up the stairs to the groups of women clustered there.

"Miss Quinzel!" he exclaimed, racing over to her. Harleen turned to look at him, suspiciously.

"Yes? Who are you?" she asked.

Bruce laughed. "Oh yes, I'm sorry, you probably don't recognize me," he said, removing the mask.

"Mr…Wayne?" stammered Harleen, her suspicion turning to shock. "Whatever are you doing here?" She shook her head before he could answer, going back to handing out the guns. "Well, you'll have to leave now – things are about to get incredibly dangerous. There's going to be a battle…"

"Yes, and I'm rescuing you before you have to face that," said Bruce, seizing her arm. "If we hurry, we can make it out before the attack…"

"I have no intention of going anywhere, Mr. Wayne," snapped Harleen, wrenching her arm out of his. "These people are my friends, and I am going to help them defend their town from these bandits."

"Friends?" repeated Bruce, incredulous. "Miss Quinzel, these people are notorious criminals and murderers…"

"Hey, prostitution ain't that bad a crime," snapped a red-haired woman at the top of the stairs. "And it's completely victimless – nothing but happy customers, ask anyone!"

"Yeah, get outta here, yankee!" retorted an attractive dark-haired woman. "We don't want your kind here! Either stop judging and pick up a gun, or beat it!"

"I'm not leaving until I do what I came here to do, and that's rescue Miss Quinzel!" snapped Bruce.

"I don't want to be rescued!" snapped Harleen. "I'm sorry if you've come all this way to do that, Mr. Wayne, but you've wasted your time! Now unless you're going to help defend the town, I would ask you to leave, please."

Bruce stared at her. "What's the matter with you?" he demanded. "When I last saw you, during your kidnapping, you were desperate to be rescued…"

"Things change," interrupted Harleen. "So do people. I've changed, Mr. Wayne. Now please accept that and go, before you get hurt."

"Here you go, Harley, Pengers found some more in the back," said the Joker, hobbling into the saloon from the back room at that moment with a pile of guns in his hands. Bruce turned to face him.

"You," he hissed.

"You?" said Joker, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"Rescuing your prisoner!" snapped Bruce, grabbing Harleen's arm again.

"Mr. Wayne, for the last time, I'm not a prisoner!" shrieked Harleen, ripping herself away from him. She hurried over to Joker, taking the guns from him. "And for the last time, puddin', you sit down and take it easy. Leave the heavy lifting to the rest of us. Your leg needs rest!" she snapped.

"Puddin'?" repeated Bruce, eyes narrowing.

"Puddin'?" repeated Joker, scowling at her. "Really? That's your idea of a pet name?"

"Yep, because you're sweet and bad for me," retorted Harleen, kissing him. "Now sit down."

Bruce stared from one to the other in disbelief. "No," he gasped. "No, it's not true! How can it be true?! What have you done to her, you monster?!" he roared, starting toward Joker.

"See, this is why I don't rest my leg!" retorted Joker, ripping his gun out and struggling to his feet. "I gotta be on the alert because some nutjob is always trying to kill me!"

"Mr. Wayne, leave him alone!" commanded Harleen, stepping in between them. "What on earth has gotten into you?!"

"How…how could you let him…seduce you, Miss Quinzel?" gasped Bruce.

"Seduce me?" repeated Harleen. "He didn't seduce me! I fell in love with him!"

"In love…with _him_?" stammered Bruce. "But that's impossible! How could anyone love a man like him?! He's a murderer, a monster, an outlaw…"

"He's _my_ outlaw," snapped Harleen. "And I intend to fight to the death to save his life. You can join us, or leave, but please stop causing trouble when we're trying to prepare the town for an attack!"

"Miss Quinzel, don't you understand this is madness?!" exclaimed Bruce.

"Yes," retorted Harleen. "Now either join the madness or get lost, Bruce."

Bruce stood there for a moment, and then grabbed a gun from Harleen and stationed himself by the doors of the saloon. "If we survive this, I'm dueling you for Miss Quinzel's honor," he growled at Joker.

"Too late for that – I already took her honor, sport," retorted Joker.

Bruce gritted his teeth. "You will not violate her again!" he hissed.

"I will if she wants to be violated," retorted Joker. "Who the hell do you think you are, the morality police?"

"I am the law!" shouted Bruce. "And the law will be obeyed! I will see to it!"

They suddenly heard sounds of horses moving forward as Bane's army entered the town. "Tell them that," muttered Joker, cocking his rifle. "If you wanted law, Brucie boy, you've come to the wrong place."


	18. Chapter 18

The men rode into town, with Bane at the head. "Joker!" he shouted. "Come out, you coward, and face me like a man!"

He was met with complete silence, and spat on the ground. " _Cobarde_ ," he muttered. "Search the buildings," he ordered. "Kill everyone you find except the _payaso_. Drag him out to me alive to deal with personally."

" _Si,_ _señor_ ," replied one, as they all dismounted their horses, splitting off into groups to search the town. The first group of men headed for the junk shop…

And were blown to pieces as the door blew off its hinges by cannon fire. Which kept going, panicking the horses who began to buck and flee, trampling more men in their wake. "Goodness, I do hope it doesn't hurt the horses," sighed Tetch, who was in charge of loading cannon balls into the machine. "It's such a shame to harm an animal, but desperate times call for desperate measures."

"Just aim high," said Crane, who had his own gun primed. "I'm afraid I have no such luxury. But fortunately, most of them aren't on horses anymore, and clustered rather handily in groups."

He pulled the trigger, firing a lighted stick of dynamite out into the crowd. It exploded upon impact, taking out an entire group with it. "Most effective, though," he said, loading another stick. "Excellent invention, Jervis."

"Well, even a man of peace must sometimes agree that war is necessary to preserve the peace," sighed Tetch. "And one might as well be prepared for it. Otherwise anyone could come in here screaming, 'Off with their heads!' and we'd simply have to let them execute people. And that would be madness," he sighed, continuing to load the repeating cannon balls.

Bane's men began to scatter to the relative safety of other parts of the town…or so they thought. A few of them dashed into Crane's surgery, but ran out screaming just as fast at the collection of preserved limbs and organs that surrounded them. Several raced toward the blacksmith's forge, where they were met by Harvey, using a giant bellows to stoke the fire, over which hung a large cauldron.

"Where is the clown, _Dos Caras_?" demanded one.

"What did you call me?" muttered Harvey, turning around.

" _Dos Caras_ ," repeated the man, sneering. "Two-Face."

Harvey's eyes flashed as rage became plainly visible on both his faces. "Nobody…calls me…Two-Face," he hissed.

And in an instant, he had knocked over the cauldron, sending molten lead splashing onto the men with a sickening hiss. Another press of the bellows sent the fire from the forge spewing out, catching onto the clothing of the bandits who ran off, screaming in pain and panic.

"Now who's Two-Face, huh?!" he roared.

Meanwhile, Bane and some of his remaining men had made for the saloon. Shots rang out from every window and door, and Bane ordered his men to fire back. One bullet went smashing through the window of Ivy's bathroom, and embedded itself in a cactus.

"Not my plants, you bastards!" shrieked Ivy, aiming her rifle and firing. She hit one of Bane's men square between the eyes, and quickly reloaded, firing off another bulls-eye.

Harleen was standing next to Joker by the saloon door, firing off alternate shots as he reloaded his gun. She peered out into the street, seeing that Croc had just emerged and was helping himself to a few snacks, the bullets bouncing off his thick, leather hide. "I actually think we might win this," she murmured.

"Gotta take care of the big guy," retorted Joker, aiming at Bane. "And trust me, he don't go down easy."

"Maybe we should use our brains over our brawn then," retorted Bruce, who was on the other side of the doorway, firing out. "Set up some kinda trap."

"What do you suggest?" asked Harleen.

Bruce shrugged. "He wants the Joker," he said. "So let's use him as bait."

"I don't like this plan," snapped Joker.

"Look, if you trust me, I promise we can defeat Bane," said Bruce.

"And why would I trust you?" demanded Joker.

"Because I don't want Bane to kill you," retorted Bruce. "I want to have that honor myself."

"Ok, well, that's not helping me trust you," retorted Joker.

"At least I'm honest," said Bruce. "And I promise I'm not killing you by shooting you in the back. It will be an honorable duel to the death, which is more than Bane is going to grant you."

At that moment, the doors to the saloon shook and the barricade began to crack as Bane charged forward, slamming his whole bulk against the door. Another collision caused the wood to snap.

"We don't have a lotta time to debate it before he breaks through!" snapped Harleen. "Just trust him, puddin'!"

Joker nodded. "Ok, what's the plan?"

"Here, put these on," said Bruce, shoving some handcuffs at him. "And we're gonna need some dynamite."

"Pengers should have some in the back," said Joker. "He's cowering there now."

"Show me," said Bruce.

They raced off. Harleen kept shooting, but suddenly the door split with a mighty crack, sending planks of wood everywhere and knocking Harleen back.

"Harleen!" shouted Ivy, racing down the stairs toward her. But it was too late. Bane had stormed into the saloon, seen Harleen, and seized her in one of his giant hands.

"Put down the gun!" he roared at Ivy, who was aiming at his head. "Or I snap her neck!"

To prove he wasn't bluffing, his grip tightened around Harleen's throat, and she gasped for air, sobbing in fear. Ivy obeyed slowly, looking at Harleen helplessly.

"Bane!" shouted Bruce at that moment. "I'll trade you! The girl for the clown!" he said, holding up a handcuffed Joker.

Bane nodded slowly. "Give her to me first," said Bruce, holding out his hand.

"I do not trust you," retorted Bane. "Give him to me first."

Bruce took a deep breath. "We exchange on the count of three," he said. "One, two, three."

He shoved Joker forward, and Bane seized him in his other hand. "Now let Miss Quinzel go," said Bruce, firmly.

Bane nodded, shoving Harleen at Bruce. "I need both hands free to crush him, otherwise I would kill the clown's _puta_ with him," he growled, lifting Joker above his head and preparing to snap his back. "Say goodbye to _el payaso loco,_ girl. I am finally going to break the Joker!"

"Sorry to disappoint you, Baney," chuckled Joker. "But the only one who's breaking here is you! Into a thousand pieces!"

He had slipped out of the handcuffs in an instant, snapping one around Bane's finger…and the other around the lighted stick of dynamite he pulled out of his jacket.

"Get down!" Joker shouted, racing over to Harleen and shoving her under a table. Bruce crouched down next to them as Bane roared in fury, trying futilely to rip the chain off before the fuse reached its end…

And then it exploded, sending fire and debris flying through the saloon. When the smoke cleared, there was a smoking crater where Bane had been.

Joker let out a sigh of relief. "You ok, kid?" he asked, helping Harleen to her feet.

"Uh huh," she said. "Are you?"

"Uh huh," he repeated, smiling at her. She embraced him fiercely.

"Nice plan, Brucie…" began Joker, turning to Bruce, but he stopped talking when he saw Bruce holding a drawn gun on him.

"Outside," snapped Bruce. "Now it's time for our duel."

"What, now?" demanded Joker. "You've gotta be kidding me!"

"Get outside, or I'll shoot you where you stand," retorted Bruce.

"No, you damn well won't!" squawked Penguin, emerging from the back. "I have had enough gunplay in my place for a long time! From now on, everyone is settling their differences outside my property! Look at this mess!" he exclaimed, gesturing around. "This is going to cost a fortune to rebuild!"

"Mr. Wayne, I'm not going to let you shoot him," said Harleen, stepping in between Joker and Bruce's gun. "Please try and understand…I love him."

"No, Miss Quinzel, I don't understand that," retorted Bruce. "And I made a promise to your parents that I would bring you back to them, safe and unharmed. I intend to fulfill that promise, whatever the cost."

Harleen nodded slowly. "I'll go with you, then," she said. "But please, you can't hurt him…"

"It's a matter of honor, Miss Quinzel," interrupted Bruce. "The Joker owes me a debt of honor for stealing from me, and kidnapping you. I will see that debt repaid in his blood. That's the law out here."

He sheathed his gun. "You have until dawn," he said, turning away. "I will face you on the main street then, and we will duel. And only one of us will be walking away alive. Good day to you. Miss Quinzel," he said, nodding and heading out of the saloon.

Joker sighed heavily, sinking down on one of the few remaining chairs to rest his leg. "See, told you," he muttered. "Can't have one day without someone trying to kill me."


	19. Chapter 19

"Puddin', I'm not going to let you go out there," said Harleen, desperately, as the sun crept over the horizon, staining the main street of Arkham blood red. Bruce was already outside and waiting, and the other residents of Arkham lined the street, preparing for quite a duel.

"Hey, relax, kiddo," said Joker, kissing her forehead. "Can't disappoint the crowd – they're expecting good entertainment!"

"Watching you die will not be entertainment," whispered Harleen, tears in her eyes.

He kissed her gently but firmly. "Trust me," he said, gazing into her eyes. "Please trust me. I ain't gonna die today, I promise you."

"How can you be sure?" she asked.

"Trust me," he repeated. "I got it all under control, toots."

She nodded slowly, throwing herself into his arms and hugging him tightly. "I love you, Mr. J," she whispered.

"Mr. J?" he repeated, grinning. "Now that I prefer to puddin'."

Harleen kissed him tenderly, and then adjusted his hat. "Go get 'em, outlaw," she whispered.

He strode out the door of the saloon into the main street with Harleen following him. "Morning, Brucie!" he said, cheerfully. "Hope you enjoyed your last night alive!"

"Likewise," retorted Bruce.

"Oh, I did!" chuckled Joker. "Spent it with my Harley girl – won't give you details, but it was pretty spectacular…"

"I've asked Dr. Crane to referee the duel," interrupted Bruce, gesturing him forward.

"Yes, on my signal, gentlemen, you will take ten paces away from each other, which I will be counting off," said Crane. "After which you will be allowed to take your shot. In the event that no one delivers a mortal wound, the same procedure will be repeated until only one man is left standing. Do you both understand the rules?"

Both men nodded. Harleen went to go stand next to Ivy, Harvey, and Selina. Ivy took her hand, smiling at her. "He'll be fine," she whispered, squeezing her palm.

"No offense, Harleen, but I'm kinda hoping Bruce wins," whispered Selina. "He might be a yankee, but he's pretty hot."

"He also said no to your advances last night," retorted Ivy.

"Well, maybe he'll be in a better mood after he wins this duel," snapped Selina.

"He won't win," said Harvey. "J's the faster draw. Fastest draw in the West."

"I don't want either of them to die," said Harleen. "I told Mr. J last night – Bruce came all this way to rescue me. Granted, he's being stupid about this whole honor thing, but I don't want to see a man who risked everything for me killed in cold blood. But I guess if he's going to kill my puddin' in cold blood, he deserves it," she sighed.

"Yeah, if only there was some way this duel could be over with without anyone getting hurt," said Harvey, lightly.

Bruce and Joker stood back to back, and Crane began counting off the paces, standing well out of the way of the line of fire. Harleen felt her whole body shaking in nervousness, despite Ivy's hold on her hand. Joker didn't seem particularly concerned, singing and whistling to himself something that sounded like "Woohi woohi woo, wah wah wah."

"Ten," finished Crane, and both men turned. Joker was the quicker draw – his gun was unholstered and fired in less than a second…although instead of a bullet, a "bang" flag popped out.

Joker shrugged, smiling at Bruce. "Oh well," he sighed. "Guess the duel's off then."

"No," retorted Bruce. "You had your shot. Now I'm having mine."

He fired, and the bullet hit Joker straight in the chest. He fell to the ground instantly and Harleen screamed, trying to race toward him, but Ivy held her back in a firm grip.

Crane came over to examine Joker. "Dead," he said, straightening up. "Congratulations, Mr. Wayne."

"No!" shrieked Harleen, fighting desperately to get over to Joker. "No! No, he can't be dead! He just can't!"

"He's no loss," retorted Bruce, sheathing his gun. "It's just frontier justice, Miss Quinzel. Now come with me – we're going back to California."

"I am not going anywhere with you!" screamed Harleen, tears rushing down her face. "You killed the man I love!"

"Harleen, listen to me," said Ivy, gently. "Go with him."

"What?" gasped Harleen, turning to her. "Are you crazy?! He killed Mr. J!"

"And he's not leaving here without you," said Ivy. "For all our sakes, you have to make him leave. The law has no place in Arkham. He would ruin everything here if he stayed. He'd probably try to shut down my establishment next…"

"He's not doing anything of the kind!" hissed Harleen. "I'm going to kill him!"

"You can try, Miss Quinzel," said Bruce. "But you won't succeed. Now come on. Let me take you home to your parents."

"I am home!" snapped Harleen. "Or I was before you…you…killed my home!" she sobbed, staring at Joker's body.

"Harleen, please," murmured Ivy. "Go with him. Trust me."

"That's what Mr. J said," gasped Harleen. "And now he's dead!"

"Harleen, it's going to be all right," said Ivy, gently. "I promise."

"How can anything be all right ever again?" whispered Harleen.

"Trust me," repeated Ivy. "And trust J. It's what he wanted to happen if he lost – he told me last night. He didn't want you to stay here and mourn him. He wanted you to go back to your parents in California and start a new life, not be stuck in this dump of a town with no future."

"He told me he wouldn't die today," whispered Harleen. "He promised…"

"Trust J," repeated Ivy. Something about the way she said it, and the pleading earnestness in her eyes, made Harleen nod slowly.

"All right," she whispered. "If he wanted that…I guess I'll go pack."

Bruce followed her into the saloon. The door swung shut…and then the Joker sat up, letting out the breath he'd been holding.

"Jesus Christ, playing dead is harder than the possum makes it look!" he muttered.

"Not so loud – they'll hear you," retorted Tetch and Harvey, hurrying over to help Joker remove the bullet-proof vest that Harvey had hammered together last night.

"Good idea of yours, Tetchy," said Joker, nodding. "Just like Clint Eastwood."

"Who?" asked Tetch, puzzled.

"I do feel a bit guilty having falsely declared you dead," sighed Crane. "It calls my professional ethics into question…"

"It's not unethical if it's for a good cause," interrupted Ivy, glancing toward the saloon door. "Now get the hell outta here, J. This whole gag will be blown if they see you alive."

"Yeah, pretty good gag!" agreed Joker, chuckling. "Trick Brucie into thinking he's killed me, get him outta town under false pretenses, and then surprise him later by rescuing Harley from his clutches! Quite a joke on him!"

"We should have just shot him," muttered Harvey. "Would have been easier on everyone."

"Now where would be the fun in that, Harv?" asked Joker.

"I do feel bad for keeping Miss Quinzel in the dark, though," sighed Crane. "She's clearly very upset at your death."

"Well, we don't know how good an actress she is," replied Joker. "And Brucie has to be convinced of my death or he'll never leave. Anyway, think how much happier she'll be to see me once she learns I'm not dead!"

"I hope she punches you in the face for tricking her," retorted Ivy. "Now get lost!"

Joker hurried off, and a few moments later, Harleen emerged from the saloon with Bruce following her. They climbed onto their horses without another word and rode from the town, Harleen staring blankly ahead with tears trailing down her face.

The moment they were lost on the horizon, Joker appeared on his horse and galloped after them, and Ivy, despite her hatred for him, found herself smiling. "Go get 'em, J," she whispered.


	20. Chapter 20

Unlike when Harleen had been escorted to California by the Joker, Bruce made sure she had frequent breaks to rest and eat. Not that Harleen felt like doing either of those two things – she felt completely numb from the pain. She cried silently to herself as Bruce fed and watered the horses.

The animals suddenly raised their heads at a strange sound coming from behind them. Bruce heard it too – it sounded like an animal. A coyote howling not too far from them. The horses began to get nervous, but Bruce shushed them, reaching for his gun.

"What's that?" asked Harleen, quietly.

"I don't know," replied Bruce. "But I'll handle it. You wait here."

The sound was coming from further on down the canyon. The terrain here was rocky, and boulders and stones dotted the landscape. Bruce slowly climbed up onto the ridge of the canyon, looking out across the mesa. The rocks here were craggier and steeper, and Bruce suddenly slipped, sending the pebbles beneath him scattering into what looked like a deep crevice in the ground.

He suddenly felt himself being pushed, and stumbled, sliding down the steep walls of the ravine and into the crevice. He hit the bottom with a thud. Luckily for him it wasn't particularly deep, about three times his height, but still difficult to get out of. The whole cave was dark, with only the crevice he had fallen through giving him any illumination. Suddenly, a swarm of something flew out of the shadows, their furry wings beating wildly as they shrieked in annoyance at the intruder, and then flew out of the mouth of the crevice.

"Quite a few bats in there, I imagine," chuckled a familiar voice.

Bruce looked up in dread to see the Joker standing on the edge of the crevice, smiling at him. "No!" gasped Bruce, baffled and furious. "You're dead! I shot you!"

"Guess I'm a ghost, then," laughed Joker. "Not sure ghosts can push troublesome lawmen into caves though. It'll probably take you a while to get outta there, enough time for me and Harley to make our getaway. But let no one say I'm a heartless guy – I'll leave you your horse so when you do get out, you can make it outta the desert."

Bruce glared at him. "Why?" he demanded. "Why not just leave me here to die?"

Joker shrugged. "No joke in people just dying, Brucie. I mean, I guess it would be kinda funny if you died down there in that cave, but I think I'm more amused by the idea of you going back to California in failure, having to tell Harley's parents that not only did you fail to rescue her, but that she's hooked herself up with the very outlaw that kidnapped her."

He thought. "No, say we're married or something. Parents don't wanna hear that their kids have hooked up with anyone, and they're probably decent people who should be spared pain. Besides, we probably will get married eventually. In fact, tell 'em we'll invite 'em to the wedding!" he chuckled. "I ain't so cruel as to never reunite Harley with her family. I just wanna have her all to myself first."

"You're a disgusting coward," growled Bruce. "And when I get outta here, I will bring you to justice."

"Heard that one before!" laughed Joker. "But I don't think you will, Brucie. Nobody in Arkham particularly wants to hear from you again – well, except Selina, but even she's kinda annoyed at you after you refused her. If you head back there, you'll be shot on sight. And I suspect you only joined up with Bane's men because nobody on the side of law and order would attack Arkham with you. So Harley and me will be safe there. As for the rest of the time, if we meet out in the wild on one of my crime sprees, robbing stages or trains or something, I'll have the homefield advantage. This is my turf, Bruce. The desert and the wild and the West – this is my land. The wilderness and me, we got a lot in common. Untameable, savage chaos. I know it like the back of my hand, unlike you city folk. But who knows? I guess you could always get lucky."

He laughed, tipping his hat to Bruce. "I'll leave you to the bats. See you around, Brucie boy!"

He headed off, whistling, leaving Bruce alone in the shadows, plotting vengeance.

…

Harleen had watched Bruce disappear, and then lost all interest in him, staring down at her hands and crying. The desert sun beat down on her, and her mind began to wander idly. She wondered what she would do if a coyote attacked, if she would even bothering fighting or just let the animal kill her. She didn't feel she had much to live for now.

The sun grew hotter, and she looked to where Bruce had disappeared, and saw a figure emerge from the canyon. She squinted – for a moment she thought the figure was dressed in purple. But that was obviously a trick of the light. The desert was known to play tricks on people, to make them hallucinate water, the thing they desired most out here in the harsh wilderness. It was playing on her own mind, conjuring up a hallucination of the thing she wanted most – her Mr. J back.

As the figure approached and became more distinct, Harleen blinked. She willed the mirage to go away. But it didn't.

"Mr. J?" she gasped, hopefully.

And then she saw him smiling, and heard his laugh. "Mr. J!" she shrieked, racing toward him. She launched herself into his arms, and sobbed at the realization that he was real, and not a figment of her imagination.

"Oh my God, you're alive!" she gasped. "You're alive!"

And then she slapped him hard across the face. "That's for making me think you were dead!" she shrieked. But then she kissed him deeply. "But I'm not really mad, because you're alive!" she gasped.

"Yeah, wanted to play a joke on old Brucie, toots," he chuckled. "Sorry that we couldn't let you in on it, but your grief had to be real."

"I forgive you," said Harleen, beaming. "Oh, Mr. J, I'm just so glad you're alive!"

She kissed him again. "What have you done with Bruce?" she asked.

"He's trapped in a cave," he said, shrugging. "Told him I'd leave his horse. By the time he needs it, we'll be long gone."

Joker whistled, and his own horse emerged from behind the rocks. "Hi, Gwyn," said Harleen, stroking the horse's mane. "I didn't think I'd be seeing you again either."

"We'd better get to riding," he said. "Got a lotta distance to cover before we get back home to Arkham."

Harleen beamed. "Home to Arkham," she repeated. "Gosh, I can't tell you how good that sounds."

She went over to her own horse, looked at the side saddle, and then unhooked it, swapping hers for Bruce's. "Hope he knows how to ride one of those," she said. "But that's what he gets for trying to kill you."

Joker chuckled. "You're a dame after my own heart, toots. Practical jokes and all."

"Learned from the best," she said, swinging her legs over the horse. "And you're right – riding like this is a lot easier."

"I can help set the pace with the harmonica, if you want," said Joker, holding up the instrument.

"Please no," retorted Harleen. "I love you, puddin', but if I'm riding places with you long term, you're gonna have to stop with the harmonica."

"What if I teach you how to play it?" he asked. "It's easy."

"I don't wanna learn," she retorted. "It's irritating, and you're gonna give it up."

"Give up the harmonica?" repeated Joker. He shrugged. "Guess you're worth it. I'll only play it when you're not around."

"And when will that be?" demanded Harleen.

"Well, when I'm off…being an outlaw," he said. "With the gang."

"And what makes you think I ain't coming along then?" asked Harleen. "I'm a fairly good shot, I get a kick outta danger, and I don't wanna be separated from you."

He grinned. "Sounds good to me, toots. But if you're gonna be one of the gang, you gotta prove you can ride with the best of 'em."

Harleen grinned back. "I'll race you back home, Mr. J."

"You're on," he said, nodding. Then he pointed at the ground. "Watch out for the snake, Harley."

"Where?" shrieked Harleen, but Joker had already used the made-up distraction to nudge his horse forward, and Gwyn bolted off across the desert, Joker cackling in triumph.

Harleen beamed. "Cheating outlaw," she muttered. "Good thing I love him."

She snapped her reins, sending her horse into a gallop, and following Joker off into the sunset.

 **The End**


End file.
